


The 99th Year

by akaihoshi



Series: As The Years Go By [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: 150 years post RD, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love Again, Feels, Fluff, Happy Ending, Isaac/Ike is a cutie, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Radiant Dawn, Slow Burn, branded!ike, events from FE7 mentioned but not really important to the plot, i just want my gay sons to be happy ok???, ike's reincarnation goes by isaac, otherwise how would you tell them apart? lol, random branded villagers, reincarnated!ike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14543313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaihoshi/pseuds/akaihoshi
Summary: 100 years after Ike's death and Soren's still waiting.OrSoren travels the world after Ike's death and comes home to rest in Stefan's branded village by the desert only to meet someone who reminds him of the one he loved most.[reincarnation AU][fix-it fic]





	1. March

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place a few months after the end of Blazing Sword and assumes that the amnesiac Tactician Lyn discovered was Soren, traveling the world alone 90+years after Ike’s death (which puts the events approximately 150 years after the battle with the goddess). It also assumes that Ike and Soren left to travel the world together after the events of Tellius, and eventually settled down in Stefan’s branded village when Ike grew too old to travel.
> 
> Full disclosure, this *is* a reincarnation/fix-it fic and it will be chock full of true Ike/Soren goodness. Part of me would love to leave this story somewhat ambiguous and leave it up to you guys whether or not it is a reincarnation fic or not, but as a reader I think I’d prefer to know up front if it wasn’t actually going to be the ship I wanted to read about so there ya go.
> 
> FYI Soren would be around 180 years old here; most of the characters from PoR/RD would be on the older side or dead so when we do see some familiar faces, they’ll be aged accordingly. Keep that in mind because I’m gonna get real sick of writing about wrinkles real fast.
> 
> (This is my first fic in a hell of a long time, and also my first Ike/Soren fic. I feel pretty bad not contributing to this fandom when I’m such a huge fan of it myself. If this one goes well, I’ve got a modern day AU I wanna do afterwards because goddamnit I need to get back into the practice of writing. I'm so rusty.)

Soren supposed his entrance could have been a little less conspicuous; dressed in a hooded black robe and dismounting from atop a ferocious looking blue dragon in the middle of the night, he must look a bit like a malicious dark wizard on some winged familiar ready to hex the next person that laid eyes on him. Judging by the screams and scuffling of the villagers, it was likely an accurate assumption.

Nevertheless, he had little choice in regards to the manner of his arrival. He wasn’t even sure where they had landed or if they were in the correct country.

He sighed, one hand still on the dragon’s neck. The cries from the crowd dulled into frenzied whispers, but none seemed willing to approach him.

Soren shifted his feet, feeling thick sand beneath his sandals. This was definitely a desert village, but was it Arcadia? He took a couple steps forward, and a deep breath. There was really only one way to find out. It wasn’t as if he could scan the crowd for familiar faces after all.

“The village chief,” He said firmly, “Bring them here.”

The murmurs of the villagers increased in volume, along with more sounds of shuffling. His ears pricked up when he heard someone shout, “You! Go and fetch him! Quickly now!” followed by the hurried sounds of someone stumbling as they tried to run through the sand.

Silence fell; neither Soren nor the villagers seemed to want to move. He could hear water running now; a fountain perhaps? That would place them in the village square, if they were in fact in the correct village.

The sound of footsteps and angry grumbling broke the silence mere minutes later.

“What on earth is going on here-” The angry grumbling grew louder, and Soren felt his lips twitch into a small relieved smile. That voice was familiar. They were in the right place after all.

Soren heard the crowd shift and part to allow the man through, his footsteps stopping abruptly as he stopped to stare at the spectacle Soren had made of himself.

Silence, followed by a cautious inquiry.

 “Soren? …Is that you?”

“Stefan,” He acknowledged, “You seem well.” Stefan let out a barking laugh.

“Goddess, it’s been what, ten years? If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you dead.” He put his hand on Soren’s shoulder and gave it a familial squeeze. “It’s good to see you.”

“Wish I could say the same.” Soren lifted his head to face Stefan properly. The hand gripping his shoulder loosened, and moved to push back the hood.

It was difficult for one to see in the moonlight, but the contrast of pale bandages wound round tanned skin was easy to spot even in poor lighting.

“And here I thought you didn’t want to see me.” Stefan chided. He let his hand drop as Soren shook his head. “What happened?”

“I had a run in with a dragon about a month ago. My eyes still haven’t recovered.” He touched the linen wrappings around his eyes lightly as he spoke.

“…The dragon behind you?” Stefan eyed the blue reptile with caution, his hand hovering near the hilt of the sword at his waist. Soren shook his head again.

“No, not this one. This is Nils—speaking of…” Soren turned and addressed the dragon behind him, “Nils, are you still shifted? We’re in the right place. You can turn back now.”

The dragon nodded in understanding. A quick flash of light filled the area, then quickly dissipated, leaving only a young pale-haired beorc in its place.

“Thank goodness!” Nils chirped, tugging at his long gold scarf, “I was worried I read your map wrong. I’m not familiar with this country at all…” He managed to stumble a few steps forward before collapsing into the sand, his breathing heavy.

“Nils?” Soren reached towards where the sound had come from. Nils managed to shakily grab Soren’s sleeve.

“I’m fine… just a little tired…” He gasped.

“A laguz?” Stefan asked, perplexed. Soren knelt down and clumsily hoisted Nils onto his back.

 “It’s complicated,” He grunted. Nils gripped Soren’s shoulders as he stood so as not to fall. For the first time, Soren was glad Nils was rather small. He’d never considered himself weak, but he certainly wasn’t used to carrying heavy loads for long periods of time. He lacked the physical bulk to pull that off.

“It never is simple with you, is it?” Stefan sighed. “Wait here. I think I need to do a little crowd control, and then I’ll take you both home.”

“My house is still standing, then?” Soren asked. Stefan nodded.

“It is. My son’s been taking care of it.” Stefan smiled and wandered back toward the crowd before Soren could ask any questions.

“Sorry you have to carry me…” Nils said quietly.

“It’s fine. You carried me across the ocean. I can do this much.” Soren said. Nils laughed softly and dropped his head down against Soren’s shoulder. “My house is to the west of the village. If we’re in the town square right now, it’ll still be a bit of a walk. Get some rest for now.” Nils was quiet for a moment. Thoughtful.

“What about you?” He said quietly.

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Nils’ voice was serious, but Soren couldn’t help but let out a snort of amusement.

“I’ve had worse.” He shifted Nils’ weight on his back, “Don’t you have more important things to worry about? Like Ninian?”

“I can be worried about both of you.” Nils mumbled. Soren hummed and the matter was quietly dropped.

He could hear the sounds of the crowd growing farther away. That was a good sign.

“He’s coming back.” Nils said. The sound of footsteps soon followed.

“Well, I got rid of the nuisances. Come on. Let’s get you two home.” Stefan said. He began walking away, only to stop and turn towards Soren who hadn’t moved. “…are you coming?”

“I can’t see.” Soren deadpanned.

“Ah. Right. Shall I hold your hand then?” Stefan teased.

“I’m carrying Nils.”

“What would you suggest then? Shall I drag you both along on a leash?” His laughter was met with silence. “…you’re not serious.” He groaned. Soren didn’t seem keen on the idea either but before he could retort, Nils chimed in.

“I’ll give you directions, Soren.” Nils said sleepily. Soren and Stefan let out mutual sighs of relief.

“Don’t fall asleep on me then.”

“I won’t.”

 

The walk across the desert town was uneventful. The silence was only broken with short quips whenever Nils would chime in with directions and the occasional owl whistling in the distance. Soren could practically feel the weight of all the questions Stefan wanted to ask him, and frankly he was dreading having to deal with them. Had he still possessed his sight, he and Nils would have likely landed on the ridge behind his home, rested, resupplied, and then left again without anyone noticing. Instead, he would likely be stuck here for several months while he recovered his vision and Nils would have to continue on without him.

Not that some forced rest and relaxation wouldn’t do him any good. His last round of traveling had been exhausting, and the last three years of war certainly hadn’t helped. But staying busy was something Soren craved. It kept his mind off of less amiable subjects. Being cooped up in this village with too much time alone with his thoughts and little to distract himself but the company of other people was a disturbing notion.  

Once they arrived, Stefan had helped him wrangle Nils into bed; the latter having passed out once the house had come into view. After months of traveling, Soren wanted nothing more but to crawl into the other bed and do the same, but Stefan had taken hold of his arm and all but dragged him back outside where they couldn’t be overheard.

They let silence settle between them for a few moments. Stefan stood against one side the doorframe, Soren sat on the other, slipping his fingers into warm sand. Desert nights were cool and quiet but the ground always seemed to radiate warmth no matter the time of day.

He didn’t remember the crickets being this loud before.

“How long are you staying?” Stefan asked. Soren lifted a palmful of sand and let it slip from his fingers before responding.

“Until my eyes heal, I imagine.”

“What about the kid?” Soren let out a snort of laughter.

“He’s easily twice your age, old man. And Nils will be continuing on without me. I promised him a map in return for escorting me here.” He said.

“I see. So I suppose you’ll be needing another set of hands then? To help with your daily tasks? I can’t imagine you’ll have an easy time cooking and such when you can’t see what you’re doing.” Stefan asked, a playful lilt in his voice.

Soren bit his tongue. The last thing he wanted was to admit he needed help with something as basic as his daily needs. He was nearly two hundred years old and very capable of taking care of himself. It was almost humiliating to think that he’d have to rely one someone else, someone he barely knew, for something as simple as a meal.

“You sound like you have someone in mind.” He said, slowly.

“I do. I’ll bring him over in the morning.” Stefan crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorframe.

“You don’t need to talk to him first?” Soren asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope. Believe it or not, the kid’s a big fan of yours. I don’t think he’ll need much convincing.”

“You’re really going to subject your own son to my company?” Soren asked. Stefan snickered. “What’s so funny?”

“Ah, nothing,” He covered his mouth to hide his grin, a pointless gesture in the company of a blind man. “I just forgot how sharp you can be. I suppose it wasn’t luck that won us all those battles, eh?”

Soren cocked his head to the side.

“It’s hardly a difficult conclusion. You said this kid is a fan of mine, though I’ve been absent for ten years, and it’s not as though anyone speaks of me here. Therefore it has to be someone who has some kind of access to my things, which only leaves your son since he was looking after my house. Though I can’t fathom why you’d claim he’s any fan of mine. He should be quite young, shouldn’t he? You weren’t married the last time I was here.”

“He’s twenty five this year.” Soren’s head whipped around to face Stefan. Had his eyes not been bandaged, they might have grown wide with shock.

“Twenty five?!” He sputtered.

Stefan chuckled.

“No need to be so surprised,” He paused for a moment, “He arrived with his mother a little over ten years ago. I’ve been taking care of both of them.” He raised his gaze towards the sky, a wistful look on his face. “You should join us for dinner sometime. I can introduce you to my wife at least since you’ll be meeting Isaac tomorrow – Ah, speaking of which, are you hungry? I can have dinner sent to you from the tavern.”

Soren shook his head.

“No, not tonight. I think I’d rather rest. I’ll have your… _son_ accompany me to the market in the morning.” He didn’t bother to hide the amusement in his voice. After all, the thought of a flirty cat branded like Stefan settled down and domestic was extremely entertaining. Meeting the woman that tied him down would certainly make for an interesting evening, but that would have to wait; socializing was never high on his list of priorities, no matter the circumstances.

“All right then. I’ll have him accompany you to Micaiah’s as well. Get her to have a look at your eyes.” He said. Soren grunted in annoyance.

“I don’t suppose you’ve managed to recruit any… _other_ healers?” He asked. While he had no qualms about her skill in magic or medicine, she was still someone Soren did not want to associate with. If he had to see her to treat his eyes, so be it; but if he could avoid the interaction, he’d definitely go out of his way to do so.

“She has apprentices.” Stefan offered.

“Joy,” Soren growled, “Exactly how I wanted to spend my first day back. Completely at the mercy of the all-knowing Dawn Maiden.” His words dripped with sarcasm. Stefan laughed, deep and loud, the creases on his face finally belaying his age.

“Yes, well…” He ruffled Soren’s hair through his hood pulling back before the irritated mage could swat him away, “Welcome back.”

\----

Sunsets were one of the few things Soren would openly admit to liking. This was especially true when it was just the two of them. With nothing but sand for miles, it truly felt like their own little world, a personal paradise just for the two of them.

Ike’s head rested on Soren’s lap, slender fingers combing through his hair. The sunset bled color over the dunes and a warm breeze rustled the thin grass of the ledge where they sat. Occasionally, Soren’s fingers would slip from Ike’s silver hair and gently trace the deep creases on his cheeks instead before slipping back into careful circular patterns.

Soren treasured moments like these more than anything, and Ike too found he enjoyed them, despite his restless nature.  Perhaps it had something to do with his age – his rather advanced age.

Ike supposed now was as good a time as any to talk about it. They’d been avoiding the topic for so long and he wasn’t sure how much longer they could afford to continue without addressing the theoretical elephant in the room. Sixty years together and no secrets left; one would think something like this would be easy to bring up, and yet…

“Soren,” He said with a gravelly voice. Soren looked down at him and smiled.

“Hmm?” Soren continued to stroke his hair but looked down to meet Ike’s gaze. Ike paused, staring up at him and choosing his words carefully as the smile slowly slipped from Soren’s lips. They knew each other too well. Ike instinctively knew that Soren understood his intentions. So much for trying to slip it into conversation casually. He may as well come right out with it, even if he hadn’t really figured out exactly what he was going to say.

“When…” He began, “When I’m gone--”

“Don’t.”

“We need to talk about this Soren, you know I-”

“DON’T.” Soren said, much louder than intended. The fingers in Ike’s hair clenched and trembled. “…please.” He whispered. Ike reached up to stroke Soren’s face.

“Hey,” He held his hand there, “I’m not going anywhere yet, ok? We’ve still got time.” He let his hand fall. “But I don’t want this hanging over our heads anymore. So just… just hear me out.” Soren averted his gaze, but when Ike wove their fingers together he squeezed.”

“…alright.” He said quietly.

Crickets filled the stillness between them.

“When I’m gone,” Ike began again, “I... I want you to keep living.”

“Ike, that’s-!” He snapped, eyes wide and glassy.

“I know!” Ike rubbed circles onto the back of Soren’s hand with his thumb, “I know… it’s just… it won’t be your time… when I go. And I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Especially not for me.”

“Following you wouldn’t hurt me, Ike. Staying behind would.” Soren’s voice cracked when he spoke. Ike felt his resolve waver, but he steeled himself. He’d thought about this for a long time – run the thoughts round his head over and over and over again until he felt sick. But the conclusion was always the same. He couldn’t let Soren follow him, not this time.

“I know, and I’m sorry but… I’ve always felt… like I never gave you a chance to figure out who you were without me.” Soren didn’t have to ask what he meant. Soren hadn’t always been a part of Ike’s life the way that Ike had always been a part of his.

“Do you regret it?” He asked slowly. Ike raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do I regret what?”

“Asking me to come with you.” Ike let out a small laugh, though the tightness in his throat was painful.

“Never,” He tucked some of Soren’s hair behind his ear, “Though, sometimes I wonder if I should’ve given you some space before we ran off together. I feel like you never have time for yourself because I was always taking you away from – well, you.”

“Ike, I--”

“But that’s why I want you to keep living, Soren. Without me. I… want you to live for yourself for a change.” Soren stared at the man in his lap, eyes hot and lump in his throat the size of an egg. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was live in a world Ike didn’t inhabit. They both understood that.

“That’s the most selfish thing you’ve ever asked of me.” He croaked.

“Is it? Well, good. You’ve been telling me to be selfish for years and I’m finally listening.” He smiled and Soren let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“But Ike, I… I never wanted to live longer than a Beorc should, whether you were there or not. It’s… not like I want to die. I don’t, but,” He wrenched his gaze from Ike and stared at the grass to the side instead, “How many lifetimes must I live? Three? Five? Ten? How many generations do I have to watch die before I even get my first gray hair?” His voice was strained, tears threatening to spill with a single blink, “You would still ask this of me?”

It was a big ask, Ike knew that. They’d been together over sixty years and Soren barely looked like a Beorc of twenty while Ike looked old enough to be his grandfather. It hurt to think of leaving the love of his life behind; he hated to think that maybe one day Soren could fall in love again with someone that wasn’t him. But Soren had so many years ahead of him, so many experiences left… And Ike? Ike just wanted him to be happy. He deserved that and so much more.

Soren had to live.

“If our positions were reversed, you would ask the same of me.” He said, quiet but firm. Protests died on Soren’s tongue. Ike was right; if the situation was reversed, Soren would ask Ike to live as well. Arguing against that fact would be a fruitless endeavor, so Soren swallowed his words.

There were several long moments without words as they both collected their thoughts.  

“…Allow me to propose a compromise, then.” Soren whispered.

“A compromise?” Ike repeated slowly. Soren nodded, swallowed, and continued.

“After you…” It was a difficult thing to admit out loud,  “…you’ve gone, I’ll keep living, at least for one more lifetime.”

“Soren…” Ike tried to object, but was quickly silenced by Soren’s free hand.

“I’ll try it – living for myself, that is – but if a hundred years pass and I’m still without a reason to continue…” Tears began to fall. “Then please let me join you.”

They were both silent for a long while, the weight of what was being asked nestled tightly between them.

“Okay.” Ike said, releasing Soren’s hand to wipe away the fat trails of tears down his cheeks. “One hundred years, and if you really don’t want to continue, then you can join me. Or maybe I’ll join you instead, Ashunera willing.” Soren laughed weakly as Ike sat up and cradled his cheeks. Ike still didn’t like the idea of Soren hurting himself to that extent, but he would take what he could get. Chances were good that he could stumble upon something in those hundred years that would encourage him to keep living. He’d have to gamble on that.

He kissed Soren softly on his tear soaked lips.

“Things will work out alright, Soren. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ike.” Foreheads bumped together, smiles close behind.

“I don’t.”

\-------

Soren woke to darkness and a pillow wet from tears. He squeezed his eyes tight, rolled over onto a drier portion and tried to calm his breathing.

This was why he never stayed in Arcadia long. It was too full of memories, too full of… Ike. His memories became dreams, and his dreams his memories and some days it was hard to distinguish between the two. The deeply buried aching in his chest would swell up until it seemed as though it would swallow him entirely. It made it very difficult to stay… but also very difficult to leave.

The wind carried sounds of a cactus wren and coyotes to him from his open window. It calmed him slightly, that bittersweet feeling of being home. He took a few moments to ground himself in his current reality – a difficult task when the only thing he could see were the ghosts of his dreams flittering about the inside of his mind.

It was still disturbing to open his eyes and see nothing even after a month. He assumed it was morning, given by the difference in temperature from the night before, but what time exactly he couldn’t say. The house was quiet so he assumed that Stefan still hadn’t shown up; that was a good indicator that it was still rather early.

He stood, fumbled for his bandages and cloak, and made his way towards the kitchen.

Instead he slammed into a door.

He reeled back cursing. He probably shouldn’t have overestimated his ability to navigate his house without his sight. He opened the door and this time felt his way towards to the kitchen in desperate need of a pick-me-up. There may not have been any food or coffee in his cupboards, but there was water and leaves for tea in his rucksack. That would do until he could get to the market.

“Well good morning.”

Soren startled so badly that he somehow managed to fall backwards over a chair and halfway onto a side table with a spectacular crash.

“What in th—Goddess, Stefan?! What are you—How long have you been here?!” He hissed, trying to reclaim his dignity and his footing. Stefan wasn’t helping with his boisterous laughter.

“Sorry,” He said between chuckles, “Didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve been here for a couple hours maybe?” He walked over to Soren and held out a hand to help him up. It took him a moment to realize that Soren couldn’t see what was being offered, so he grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet.

“…Thanks.” He grumbled, “So, why are you here? I thought your son was supposed to accompany me today.” He felt his way towards the kitchen table and settled in one of the chairs.

“He heard about a dragon landing in the center of town and spent the entire night searching for it… so I thought I’d let him sleep in.”

“How generous.” He brought the cup to his lips for a long sip. It was somewhat weak, too much spice and not enough herbs for Soren’s taste, but it did the job. He certainly felt a little more awake.

The front door slammed open, and Soren jumped. The intruder was breathing heavily as if they had sprinted a great distance before arriving.

“Ah,” Stefan said, mouth half-full of jam and bread, “Speak of the devil.”

“Dad,” the intruder said between breaths, “The Sage… you said…”

“Yes, yes. Let me introduce you.” Stefan stood and gestured to his son, “Soren, this is my son Isaac. Isaac, meet your beloved Sage, Soren.” Soren could feel Isaac staring at him, even if he couldn’t see him. He continued to nurse his tea, waiting for Isaac to speak.

“I thought you’d be a lot older.” He said. Soren snorted into his half-drunk mug, and Stefan cuffed him upside the head. “Hey! What was that for?!” Stefan cleared his throat.

“…In any case… What do you think, Soren?”

Soren set his mug down and slowly moved towards Isaac.

“Hold still.” Isaac jumped when Soren placed his hands on his chest.

“What are you doing?” His voice was low and full of unease.

“I said hold still.”

Soren slid his hands across Isaac’s chest, brow furrowed. It was broad, and firm – not overly muscular but it was clear he wasn’t the bookish type. His fingers spread, arms fully extended, and curled round both shoulders giving a light squeeze and eliciting a small noise from Isaac. Well formed chest and broad shoulders, wide with a little swelling on the right side - A definite trait of a swordsman.

He skimmed his hands further, down the bicep towards the wrist and over his palms. Equal calluses on both hands implied an ambidextrous nature, or at least that Isaac was used to wielding a two-handed blade.

He drew his hands back up to Isaac’s neck and ears, both growing warm under his fingertips. Was the poor boy embarrassed? It was hard to say. Thick cording on the neck and swelling on the ears, likely from taking a few blows to the head. It was safe to assume Isaac had seen real combat.

Soren lightly pulled his fingers across Isaac’s face to find well defined features, a square clean-shaven jaw and thick brows. Soren tried to sketch Isaac’s face in his mind. It was likely inaccurate, but he wanted some kind of face to put to the name.

Stefan started sniggering, probably at his son’s discomfort. In an effort to spare Isaac any more embarrassment and finish his observations quickly, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them on Isaac’s back. He pressed down against the shoulder blades and spine, finding only a slight curve and well formed but slightly unbalanced muscles at the top, likely side effect of single-handed swordplay despite previous evidence of a dual wield. There was no sign of a hunched back so he likely didn’t participate in farm work and the like.

Soren removed his hands entirely, his inspection complete, and analyzed his findings.

 “Hmm… good posture, well built musculature with some swelling on the right shoulder – I’ll assume you’re training with a blade that’s too heavy – but otherwise you seem healthy. I’m assuming you have no skill in farm work given your build. A full-time town guard, perhaps?”

“What am I, livestock?” Isaac groaned. Stefan laughed at his son’s flabbergasted tone which was likely accompanied by an equally baffled expression.

“Are you literate?” Soren asked. It was the one remaining piece of information his hands wouldn’t be able to provide.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. I mean, I’m not the strongest reader, but I’ve uh… I’ve read all your books.” Isaac scratched the back of his neck, slightly bashful. Soren cocked his head slightly.

“You don’t say…” His lips curled into a subtle smirk. Stefan clapped Isaac on the shoulder and grinned.

“So what’s the verdict? Will he do?”

“Will I do for what?” Isaac asked.

Soren looked pensive for a moment.

“I think he’ll do nicely.” He said.

“Excellent! I’ll leave you to it then.” Stefan laughed.

“…Does one of you want to tell me what’s going on?” Isaac glanced nervously between them.

“Your help is appreciated, Stefan.” Soren said with a nod, decidedly ignoring Isaac’s confusion.

“Any time.” He chirped, giving a wave and sauntering out the front door. Isaac stared after him still a bit confused about the current events. He glanced back to the sage. Before he could ask him for clarification, Soren spoke.

“You’re familiar with my home, yes?” He asked.

“I guess so. Why?”

“Good. There should be a length of waxed cotton and some small nets in the back of the root cellar. Fetch the cloth and three nets and then we’ll head to the market.” He turned to leave the kitchen, but quickly found himself toppling over a chair. A hand shot out and grabbed hold of his arm, steadying him before he could fall. A moment passed as Soren re-oriented himself.

“Thank you.” It was hard to keep the frustration he felt from his voice. He wasn’t usually this clumsy. A means of effective navigation would have to be procured if he was to remain blind for much longer.

“No problem.” Isaac released him, a pensive look on his face.

Soren sighed. It was obvious Isaac had a burning question or two to ask. They may as well get them out of the way.

“What is it?”

“You… can’t see at all?” Soren crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one side.

“For now, at least.” He said, “That’s why you’re here.”

“What do you mean?”

 “Your father has volunteered your assistance until I recover my vision.” He clarified. “I don’t need constant supervision; just some… _help,_ with small things. Errands and the like.”

“Ah.” A very poignant pause followed. Soren could feel Isaac staring at him with an odd intensity. It was unsettling, but not in a bad way.

“Was there something else?” He asked. He was getting impatient; the market was only open mornings while it was cool, and he still wasn’t sure exactly what time it was.

“Oh, no, it’s just…” Isaac began.

“It’s just what?” Soren probed.

Isaac surveyed him thoughtfully.

“You’re… not at all what I was expecting.” He said, the tone of his voice implying a smile.

“Well I was expecting you to fetch the cloth and nets from the root cellar. I’d like to get to the market before noon, if you don’t mind.” To Soren’s surprise, Isaac started to laugh but stopped abruptly as the words sank in.

“Oh! Shit! We don’t have a lot of time. Just, uh, wait here! I’ll be right back!” He took off with a sprint, and Soren couldn’t help but chuckle. Isaac seemed an interesting type, honest and eager to please – exactly the type of person Soren preferred to associate with. Those types of individuals were usually easy to work with and respectful of Soren’s arbitrary social boundaries.

Stefan may be irritating, but he certainly understood Soren’s preferred company.

With the promise of Isaac’s return forthcoming, Soren set out to locate his sandals. 


	2. Mid March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 – otherwise known as the chapter where I get to actually start exploring character relationships FINALLY. It’s the bread and butter of a slow burn fic like this so I’m pretty excited. I’m usually one to write objective-based plots rather than character relationship plots so this should be fun! 
> 
> *sweats*

“I don’t remember the market being quite this crowded.” Soren groaned and adjusted the net full of fruits over his shoulder. Sweat soaked through the thin fabric of his clothing and the hood of his outer robe did very little to keep the sun from roasting him like a sweet potato. Coupled with the amount of elbowing and blind bartering he had just subjected himself to in order to resupply, he was decidedly irritable.

“You want to take a break?” Isaac asked. Soren was admittedly jealous of Isaac’s apparent immunity to both the heat and the constant close proximity of the villagers. He’d had to hold onto Isaac’s arm multiple times throughout the morning just so he didn’t lose him in the crowd, and it was baffling how he managed to barely break a sweat while the sun forced the last four days worth of hydration out of Soren’s pores. Isaac’s skin was barely tacky.

He nodded, eager for some shade.

Isaac took him by the wrist and led him to the base of a palm tree, to Soren’s immense relief. The shade felt as satisfying as a dip in a cold river, refreshing in a way he hadn’t quiet expected. He sunk down into the cool sand and forced himself to relax. Isaac set their purchases down next to him.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Isaac said, before retreating back into the now dying crowds. Soren felt a brief but distinct moment of panic at being left alone out in the open, but he quickly squashed the feeling. He was perfectly capable, even when blind. Stumbling home was an option, though it’d likely take a long time and he’d probably sport a fair amount of fresh bruising from running into things along the way, but it was still an option should he need it.

Unsure of where Isaac had gone or if – when – he would be back, Soren decided to take quick stock of his purchases just in case there was anything he’d forgotten. He had no desire to march back into that hell hole of a market again until he had to, though it would be a while before these supplies ran out. All those years as a staff officer had forced him into the habit of buying in bulk. Isaac had been stunned into silence when Soren instructed him to fill four net bags full of various fruits, a large leather pack full of an enormous assortment of herbs, an entire deer (wrapped in the waxed cotton; he hardly wanted to carry around a carcass in the hot sun), several skins of oils and a few yards of linen. No one in Arcadia shopped that aggressively.

“Stop fondling the deer. It looks like there’s a body wrapped in that fabric and people are starting to stare.” Isaac said, plopping himself down next to him. Soren turned towards him.

“I wasn’t aware anyone was around.” He said, furrowing his brow at the sounds Isaac was making. It sounded a bit like metal on wood, but what on earth…?

“I still don’t get what you’re going to do with it. Who buys a whole deer for themselves?” The whacking sound continued.

“It’s a waste of money to just buy the meat. I can dry most of it for jerky, strip the skin and tan it for leather, render the fats for a tallow soap base, and cure the bones for carving. It would cost twice as much to buy each thing separately and – Isaac, just what on earth are you doing?!” He exclaimed, finally unable to suppress his curiosity.

“Here,” Isaac pressed something hard, round and… fuzzy into his hands. Before the confusion could set in further, a fruity, tropical scent wafted towards him.

“A coconut?” He said hesitantly.

“Yeah, it’s a white palm coconut. I think it comes from Hoshido, but I’m not sure.” Isaac took a long swig from his makeshift mug. Soren was a bit too perplexed to move.

“Hoshido? What on earth is it doing here? By ship it would take a month or more to reach Hoshido from Daein.”

“Oh right. I guess you weren’t around back then,” Isaac took a final drink from his fruit, and began digging into its soft flesh with a knife. “You know that small port to the west?”

“Yes. Cambria. What of it?” It was a tiny port west of the Desert Of Death and North of Daein. If he recalled correctly, it was a small harbor mostly used for fishing periodically by the Hatari Laguz and some smaller beorc villages up north.

“A few years ago, a merchant guild moved in and secured a bunch of trade routes overseas. People have been flocking to the area ever since.” He said.

“Even here? In the desert?” Soren took a tentative sip from his coconut, a subtle sweetness on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah. As the Cambria got bigger the people started building out towards Arcadia – or at least, that forest that borders us on the west.” Soren whipped his head around.

“They moved into the forest?” He did his best to keep his voice from shaking. That forest – or rather a specific part of the forest – was the only thing that kept Soren tied to Arcadia. If anything were to happen to it…

“No. They tried to, though. Turns out there are a lot of valuable medicinal herbs growing there and the guild started getting way too close to our village border. It was a long haul, but we drove them back eventually.” He said.

“I see. So Stefan must have put together a militia…” Soren let out a sigh of relief and took another drink. That made sense. He had been curious about Isaac’s possible role as a village guard, but if the town had grown due to local trade then employing a full time militia was practically a necessity.

And it ensured the safety of his secret as well.

“Right.” Isaac continued after swallowing a mouthful of coconut meat, “He’s been training me and a bunch of others in swordplay ever since. It’s… probably more for show than anything. If we were seriously invaded we probably wouldn’t be able to do much.” Isaac snapped the coconut in two and bit into the remaining flesh like it was an apple.

“…I don’t know what you’re doing but it sounds disgusting.” It was true. The strange snarfing noises did sound rather off-putting without the visual context.

“Sorry,” Isaac mumbled through a full mouth, “I’m starving!”

“Shall we go then? I’m finished here.” He suggested.

“What about Micaiah?” Isaac asked. Soren flinched.

“What about her?” He hoped his voice sounded innocent enough.

“I thought we’d visit her next so she can have a look at your eyes. Did you forget?” Isaac asked between bites.

“She can wait a while. I’d rather get this food out of the sun before it spoils.” He said.

“If you say so. Shall we go then?” Isaac offered his hand to help him up, though Soren didn’t take it. He stood, brushed the dust off his robes – a habit more than anything else – and picked up his packs.

“Yes, lets.”

\-----

 

Soren really didn’t want to see Micaiah. She was always too patient with him, too gentle, too… _nice._ Just being in her presence was enough to put him in a foul mood. Sure she was possibly the only healer he knew who could help him regain his sight, but the thought of asking her for help was nauseating.

Somehow he managed to avoid the subject for almost an entire week. Nils had finally woken up on the second day eager to help with canning and cooking, so while Isaac dropped by in the mornings and evenings, Soren was often able to shoo him away before the topic of his impending treatment was breached. The excuses were plausible too; food spoiled quickly in the desert, after all and since Soren had a tendency to buy in bulk… there was a lot of food to process.

Truth be told they probably could have accomplished twice as much in half the time had Soren not needed Nils’ assistance every few minutes.

Mornings were spent in the kitchen – Soren mostly silent and Nils singing quietly to himself – and evenings were spent looking over maps and slowly plotting the safest travel routes through Tellius.

It was, overall, a comfortable arrangement that wouldn’t last.

Isaac had shown up on the sixth day with an irritable disposition. He all but slung Soren over his shoulder, ignoring his flailing protests, and unceremoniously dumped him on Micaiah’s doorstep with word that he would come back after he finished his patrol route for the day. In hindsight, Soren had grossly underestimated Isaac’s physical bulk during his initial appraisal.

And that was how Soren found himself alone on Micaiah’s front step weighing his options; knocking on the door and spending a few hours with a woman he couldn’t stand, or turning around and risking getting lost on his way home and maybe never being able to see again.

Decisions, decisions.

But then again, he didn’t hate Micaiah; he simply found her incredibly frustrating to deal with. They were, in many respects, polar opposites of each other, and being around her always reminded Soren that she was everything he wasn’t. Should he call that envy?

Regardless, he found being in her presence extraordinarily aggravating.

“You’re late, Soren.” A crisp female voice said from behind him.

Soren jumped and swore under his breath.

“I hate that power of yours…” He grumbled. Micaiah chuckled softly.

“My foresight’s gone you know, but it’s nice to see you too. Come on in. Let’s get a look at you.” She put her hands lightly against his back and ushered him inside.

It was much cooler inside, but the air was thick with smoke – incense, rather – likely used as a way to cleanse the space for energy healing; an act somewhat akin to smudging. Still, the scent of sandalwood and echinacea was strong. He’d have to wash his clothing with lye to get the scent out.

“Have a seat and take off your bandages please. There’s a chair to your left. I just have to draw the curtains and get a lantern just in case your eyes turn out to be sensitive.” She said. Soren begrudgingly followed her suggestions. Even if they were perfectly sensible, he was still tempted to ignore them out of sheer spite.

Micaiah returned barely a minute later, set the lantern on the table and seating herself in another chair directly in front of him – he knew this because she was close enough to touch him (which was another reality he was going to have to deal with if he wanted to be able to see again).

“So do you want to tell me what happened?” She inquired.

“You know what happened.” Soren growled.

“Stefan only mentioned you had an incident with a dragon. I’m asking for the details.” Soren grunted, decidedly uncooperative. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk. I’ll just have to scan your entire body’s meridian lines-” She chirped.

Soren reeled back with enough force to tip his chair backwards. Micaiah laughed.

“Fine,” He grumbled, “I took a direct hit from a red dragon’s breath. There were burns along my right side and my face. The cleric said I was lucky my eyes weren’t charcoal.”

“I see. So you managed to heal the scarring but not your eyes?” She tipped his chin up for a better view.

“It took a few treatments from a Recover stave, but yes. The scarring was taken care of with little issue.” He jerked his face from her grasp.

“Alright,” She said, leaning back in her chair. “Any other injuries? Nothing strange?”

Soren was silent for a long moment. On the one hand, he could tell her and potentially avoid a full body examination; on the other hand, he could keep silent and potentially be subject to a full body examination. Neither option was particularly good.

“My magic’s unstable,” He said, begrudgingly, “I haven’t been able to touch a tome since then. The spells activate before I can touch the book… without my consent.”

“I’m not surprised,” She giggled, “you were basically soaked in raw magic.” Soren quirked his eyebrow at that.

“And why would that matter? I’ve certainly taken in magic at greater quantities than that with no adverse effects.”

“Yes, but that was likely intentional so you were able to circulate the magic properly throughout your body.” Micaiah glanced at the perplexed look on Soren’s face and continued, “I’ve always thought of magic as a sort of toxin; we have to continuously circulate it through our bodies because if it stops, it disturbs our control over our bodies. If too much builds up in your system, the effects are amplified.” She hummed thoughtfully, “It’s a bit like alcohol, if you think about it. If you drink a little at a time you can reap the benefits, but drink too much and you’ll certainly pay for it.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m not blind, I’m just suffering from… magic poisoning?” Soren asked with an incredulous tone.

“It’s possible. You’re used to circulating large amounts of magic though, so the effects may be manifesting in different ways. Now hold still. I want to take a closer look.” She said. Soren clicked his tongue in irritation. He hated having his energy read. It felt disgusting. Yet another reason he was dreading this appointment.

Even so, he leaned forward and allowed Micaiah to place her fingertips to his temples.

Magic usually felt like a faint tingling sensation; like a localized adrenaline rush darting through one’s body. However, foreign magic felt invasive, like tiny electric worms crawling through one’s body – a horrible itch persistently wiggling just beneath the skin.

He bit back his discomfort, clenching his teeth and waited for it to be over.

After a few moments of this probing, Micaiah withdrew her hands and leaned back in her chair.

“I was right,” She said, “While most of your body is managing to slowly process the excess magic in your system, you’ve got a lot of buildup around your eyes.” She paused, “I can remove it, but… I don’t think it’ll restore your sight.”

“…And why is that?” Soren felt panic flutter faintly in his chest. He hadn’t considered the idea that he may never regain his sight at all.

“When that cleric said you were lucky… he wasn’t exaggerating. From what I can tell your eyes were probably damaged beyond repair.”

“Is… is that so…” Soren choked.

“Don’t make that face. I didn’t mean to make it sound so dire.” She pushed her chair back and walked across the room, “I only meant that removing the excess magic buildup wouldn’t restore your sight. Your eyes simply need to heal on their own.”

“Coming to you was pointless then.”

“Oh don’t say that. Your recovery would take a lot longer without me – years maybe.” She sat back down in her chair and pressed a large stone into his hands. “Hold this and try to keep your breathing steady. I’m going to channel the as much magic as I can into this crystal. You might experience some slight discomfort.”

Soren scoffed.

“You don’t say.”

\-----

Soren never wanted to have to go through a magical extraction procedure ever again. He’d probably feel those tiny magic ghost-worms wiggling around under his skin for _days_.

He shuddered at the thought.

Micaiah let out a long breath and took the stone from his hands, setting it on the table and taking a moment to center herself. Energy work was an extremely exhaustive practice. It wasn’t like using a cure stave. It required intimate knowledge of the body’s inner workings and often posed the risk of the practitioner mirroring the behaviors of the one being treated for a time afterwards.

“Keep your eyes closed for a little while,” Her breathing was heavier than Soren expected, but then again, she wasn’t as young as she used to be, “You need to give your body a chance to adjust.”

“…thank you.” He said. He didn’t need to see to know Micaiah was smiling.

“You’re welcome.” She said, getting up from her chair, “Would you like some tea?”

“Please.” He still felt a bit shaky after having his magic drained; tea would help him feel steady. He could also feel a headache coming on, so hopefully it would help with that too.

He could hear Micaiah clinking the kettle around the kitchen. It would be a little while before the tea could be brewed. Best fill the gap with something beyond a tired silence.

“Still no proper successor?”

“Not yet. I have two apprentices though – both laguz. One’s great with a stave, the other fancies herself as a bit of an apothecary.” She laughed, “Oh, but my daughter wrote to me recently. She said I have a granddaughter that bears the brand.”

“Will you bring her here?” Soren was genuinely curious. Micaiah’s lineage had never been made public. She and Sothe had faked their deaths and moved to Arcadia once their children were ready to seize the throne. Their children had bore no brands, so it was surprising to hear of one appearing on a grandchild of all things.

“Yes. I leave in a week. She’ll live with me for the time being.”

“Is Sothe going with you? He seemed a bit old to be traveling, last I saw him.”

Micaiah dropped the clay mug she’d been holding and it shattered against the hardwood floor.

“O-oh! W-well that was clumsy of me…” She laughed nervously.

Something was definitely off.

“Micaiah,” Soren probed, “Where’s Sothe?”

The silence that followed the question was unsettling.

“He…” She stuttered weakly, “…he’s gone. Two years ago.”

“Oh.” Soren wasn’t sure what else to say. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to hear of Sothe’s death. Not when Micaiah took great pains to prolong his life. “I’m sorry.” He surprised himself with the sincerity in his voice.

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I could only keep him with me for so long. I suppose that’s just the limit of a beorc.” She said, voice tinged with an uncharacteristic bitterness.

The conversation halted there, Soren at a loss for words, and Micaiah busing herself with the tea.

She finally handed him his mug and sat down a bit farther away than before. They drank in silence. Minutes passed before Micaiah spoke again, her voice tired, but steady.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“I’m still a bit light headed, but otherwise I feel alright.” He replied. She shook her head.

“No, I mean,” She hesitated, “Are _you_ alright?” The change in inflection implied an entirely different meaning. Soren gave a jaded laugh.

“Am I alright? You ask me that after how long, exactly?” His tone was unsteady, a hint of a threat lurking between his words. She sighed.

“Don’t be like that, Soren. I was only asking.” Micaiah took a long sip of her tea. “It’s been a long time. I simply wanted to know how you were doing. All things considered.”

“Ah yes, because you cared about my well-being sooo much in the past.” He snarled with the mug near his lips.

“Oh, stop it. I just thought you might want someone to talk to, that’s all. Someone who understood what you’ve been through –”

“Someone who understands what I’ve been through?! Is that supposed to be you?” He gripped the mug so hard his hands shook, “The same person who nearly doubled the lifespan of her husband by means of her heron blood suddenly thinks she understands what I’ve _been through_?!” His tone was low and dangerous. Soren stared at her, blank and wide and angry. “I have been alone for almost a _hundred years_ , Micaiah. Ninety nine years of wishing I was a normal Beorc just so I didn’t have to wake up every morning and wonder how much easier it would be if I just followed him now and got it over with so I wouldn’t have to suffer through another nine hundred years without him.” He grit his teeth, “Don’t you _dare_ think for one second you understand what I’ve been through, you ridiculous girl. Not when you have so much less time than I do.”

Soren desperately tried to steady his breathing. He could feel the rage boiling up into his throat, and Micaiah seemed to have a way with coaxing toxic thoughts out of him and it was _infuriating_.

“I never meant it like that.” She said softly. He let her pluck his half empty mug from his hands to prevent his shaking hands from spilling it, and set it on the table. “I only meant that I was willing to listen, if you wanted. I know we’re not close but… I thought that if there was anyone who could understand what you’d been through – even a little – it would probably be me.” The tightness in Soren’s throat eased slightly, “I’m sorry if I made things worse.”

“It’s fine,” Soren grunted, “Just… forget it.”

They finished their tea in silence.

A good portion of an hour passed before words were exchanged again and Soren had calmed down considerably. He was a little embarrassed about his earlier outburst, but he had to admit that he did feel a little better.

“You can try opening your eyes now. Tell me what you see, if anything.” Micaiah said.

Soren felt his nerves tense. The last thing he wanted was to open his eyes and see nothing but black again, but he parted his lids, tentatively.

He was greeted with darkness, but it wasn’t the same solid black he saw that morning. There were vague outlines, patches of lighter discoloration scattered about. It was dizzying in a way he hadn’t expected. He stared straight ahead for a few moments, realizing that the largest patch of light discoloration in from of him was actually a dull light reflecting off of Micaiah’s silver hair.

“It’s… extremely blurry.” He said. Micaiah gave a gentle laugh.

“We’ll let your eyes adjust slowly to the light.” She said.

“For how long?”

“A few months maybe before there’s a full recovery. You can remove the wrappings during the day by Midsummer if all goes well. Until then your eyes are going to be extremely sensitive to light. You’ll want to wear your hood and wrappings when the sun is out at least, but at night you should be alright if you’re careful of fires and full moons. The blurriness will fade away on its own in time.”

“It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” He hesitated, “Thank you. And…” He swallowed, “I’m… sorry for earlier.” Was that a smile? It looked like an exceptionally blurry pink…thing. He must have had a weird look on his face as he scrutinized the blurry shapes in front of him, because he distinctly heard Micaiah giggle.

“That’s alright,” She said, “I was honestly expecting worse.” He glared at her best he could in his blind state. “You may not feel the same, but I have always considered you my friend, Soren.” She grinned, “Even when you were my enemy.” Micaiah picked up their mugs and brought them back to the kitchen, humming the entire way.

Soren spent the rest of his visit lost in thought.

\-----

Isaac returned in the early afternoon eager to know how Soren’s appointment went and if the sage would be able to see again anytime soon. Part of him was even more curious to know what Soren’s face looked like without all the layers of linen wrappings. He seemed young, after all, though definitely older than Isaac – by how much he wasn’t sure. Couldn’t be that much.

He was sorely disappointed to find Soren almost exactly as he’d left him; irritable and bandaged.

Soren was oddly silent as Micaiah gave Isaac some instructions about Soren’s ongoing treatments and aftercare for his eyes. He kept sneaking glances at him curious about what Micaiah could have done to silence him so effectively. Then again, he could just be tired.

They bid Micaiah goodbye and she disappeared back into her house.

They made it a few hundred feet before Isaac couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore.

“You’re awfully quiet. Did the session not go well?” He asked.

“Mm. No, it was fine. The damage was worse than expected, so even with treatment it will take months before they heal completely.” Soren pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to deter an oncoming headache.

“Hey, at least she thinks they’ll heal. That’s good news.” Isaac felt himself smiling despite the circumstances. “Guess that means you’ll be sticking around here for a while, huh?” Soren stopped walking, and tilted his head.

“You seem oddly pleased with that.” He said.

“Well, yeah. It means I have more time to get to know you better.” Soren’s head dipped so it was facing the ground. For a moment Isaac thought he had said something wrong.

“Why would you want to do a thing like that?” Soren asked.

“Huh?”

“Why would you want to get to know me better?” Soren reiterated. Isaac certainly hadn’t been expecting to be called out on such a careless comment. He was at a loss for words. Soren looked as though he regret asking. “Never mind. Forget it.” He mumbled and started walking again.

Isaac didn’t follow him right away.

“Hey,” He said gently, jogging slightly to catch up to Soren, “um…”

Words weren’t really his thing.

“What is it?” Soren asked. Isaac smiled and kicked up a little sand in front of them, lightly pushing on Soren’s back to ease him back onto the stone path.

 “You know,” He began, “you’re the only person in this whole village with books about places other than Tellius.” He looked up toward the cloudless sky, Soren silent beside him. “I remember being a kid reading those books and thinking, ‘wow, this guy’s amazing. I wanna be just like him.’ I could travel the world, meet all kinds of people, go on adventures…”

“You definitely don’t want to be like me,” Soren said with a small, bitter laugh.

“Well, to be fair I thought you’d be like an old mountain man with a huge beard.” Soren laughed properly this time.

“Disappointed?” He teased.

“Not at all. I like you better this way.” His smile was almost audible.

Soren’s laughter faded away. He looked pensive, and perhaps a little sad? Had he said something wrong?

“So,” Isaac started again, “What made you want to travel?” It was a cheap question, generic, but it would at least get the topic moving in a different direction. Soren tilted his head slightly, his expression lightening a little.

“I… suppose there simply isn’t anything else I’d rather be doing.” He said, “Travelling at least ensures my boredom is kept at bay.”

“Well, I guess Nils is usually with you, right? He seems pretty entertaining. Whoa! Easy there…” Isaac’s hands shot out to catch Soren just as he stumbled over a raised stone. He quickly righted himself, tapped his foot around to make sure there weren’t any more rocks in his way, and began walking again.

“….thanks.” He said quietly, “But no, Nils is only with me for a short time. We met by chance a few years ago and traveled with the same caravan for a while. I had promised him a map so he accompanied me here. He’ll be leaving soon enough.”

“Oh… really? Then… who do you usually travel with, if not Nils?”

“…No one.” It was Isaac who nearly stumbled this time, too preoccupied with staring at Soren in surprise to pay attention to where he was walking. He had been traveling alone all this time? He found that a little difficult to believe. Sure Soren was very independent, and Stefan had called him a hermit a time or two… but certainly he had _someone_ to travel with.

 “Well, if you ever want some company…” He trailed off. It couldn’t hurt to offer at least. He’d always wanted to travel beyond the desert anyway.

“You’re a grown man hardly in need of an escort, Isaac.” Soren chided with a small smirk.

“That may be, but I still wouldn’t want to travel alone unless I had to.” He replied.

“I don’t suppose many would.” Soren shook his head, “Enough of this. I missed lunch thanks to your meddling. Walk faster, I’m hungry.” Isaac laughed, took Soren by the wrist, and sped up his steps.

 “Yes sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Soren’s outburst might seem a little out of place, but he’s often described in-game as being high-strung/tightly wound… and his outbursts do seem to pop out of nowhere sometimes. I think he just suppresses things until he finally snaps. I also really wanted to emphasize Soren’s conflicting feelings about Micaiah (no not THOSE kinds of feelings, geez); Wanting someone who understands him, but not believing anyone could, least of all her. 
> 
> And while Micaiah has gone through similar things, she had a MUCH better support system and a lot of people around her to help her through them. Soren doesn’t have that as much (mostly by choice since he isolates himself) and I like to think that Micaiah empathizes with him. In different circumstances I actually believe they could have been something like friends. Getting that scene right took… a lot longer than I wanted.
> 
> And now to write happier chapters. With feels, but better kinds of feels. Fluffy feels. winkwink


	3. April - May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Did anyone else know that Ninian and Nils are technically half/dragons…? Which kinda makes them branded like Soren? It never occurred to me, and I feel like it should have.  
> Also I’ve been looking over the outline and cutting a lot of stuff out because it really has no impact on the plot (plot?! You mean there’s a plot?!). Cutting this chapter short so I can mull over the rest of the changes.  
> …Also I wanted more room for romance and flirting and fluff.  
> SOON. That starts SOON.  
> (but not this chapter)

After his trip to Micaiah’s, Soren stopped shooing Isaac out of his house whenever he dropped by. Nils teased him, claiming that Soren was growing fond of Isaac, but Soren simply argued that once Nils left Isaac would be around more often anyway; he might as well get used to him. When Isaac heard that, he didn’t hesitate to make himself right at home… and Nils was growing impatient.

That was how Soren and Nils ended up sitting in a circle on a woven rug by the warmth of the fireplace, a large, detailed map of Tellius spread before them, and Isaac outside looking for something as per Soren’s instructions.

“I think the safest route would be through the forest to the East. Then you can charter a ship from Cambria to a port near Felirae in Crimea. You can find a caravan in Melior that will take you to the borders of Gallia and from there to the northern border of Goldoa.” Soren suggested. Nils traced the route across the map with his finger and frowned.

“I don’t know, Soren… it seems like this would take a long time…” He said, “Why can’t I just travel south through Daein instead?”

“While Daein is certainly safer for the Branded and Laguz than it used to be, it’s certainly no place to be traveling through alone.” Soren huffed, “The route through Crimea might be a little longer, but you’ll be certain to make it to Goldoa in one piece.”

“How long would that take?” Nils asked.

“Five months one-way, give or take a week or two. It depends a little on the weather, but the roads are well kept and easy to travel.” Soren said.

“Five months…” Nils whispered, “…I might not have that long.”

“It’s better to ensure your arrival than to gamble on a shorter path and chance not arriving at all.” He said. Nils chewed his bottom lip and continued to stare at the map.

“I’m back!” Isaac said as he entered the house, a large, muddy, wooden chest in his arms.

“Did you find it?” Soren asked. Isaac set the chest down next to him with a large thud.

“Yeah. You uh, wanna tell me why this was buried out back?” Isaac asked, taking a seat on the floor between Soren and Nils.

“Later,” Soren was thoughtful for a moment, “Actually Isaac, perhaps you could help. Nils needs to get to Goldoa; I suggested chartering a ship across Oribes and then traveling through Crimea and Gallia which I still think is the safest route since he’ll be traveling alone, but we’re pressed for time. Do you know a faster route.” Isaac blinked a few times then shook his head.

“You’d probably know better than I would. I’ve never been south of Daein.” He said.

“It’s been years since I’ve crossed Tellius. The landscape could have changed, new trade routes could have been formed, borders could have moved…”  Soren had spent a great many hours scrutinizing maps of Tellius during his time at war, but working solely from his memory which was probably outdated, was proving to be rather difficult.

“Trade routes… ah! That reminds me… There’s a regular caravan that goes from Arcadia south to Sella.” Isaac suggested, tracing the route on the map as he spoke. Nils perked up at that.

“Then… if I follow that path, I could keep going straight to… Miscale? And then maybe I could find a ship to take me to Goldoa from there. That would be a lot faster!” He said, grinning.

“No,” Soren growled.

“Why not?” Nils said.

“Nils,” Soren growled, “To get to Miscale you’ll have to cross the mountains – which is a feat by itself – then take a river boat from Telgam because the Herons certainly aren’t going to let you pass through Serenes Forest unescorted.”

“I could fly over the mountains though…” Nils timidly suggested. Soren’s brow furrowed so deeply that even Isaac could tell he was glaring through the linen wrappings.

“No.”

“But-”

“Nils, the last time you did that it took over a week for you recover completely. Besides, your dragonstone doesn’t have enough energy. You wouldn’t be able to maintain your dragon form-” Soren was cut off by Isaac.

“Wait a minute! Dragon?!” He turned to Nils, his voice confused but still in awe, “Nils, are you a dragon?!” Nils laughed a little nervously and scratched his cheek.

“Umm…”

“Isaac, focus. And Nils, I’d rather you didn’t attempt something so dangerous.” Soren sighed.

“Seriously? He’s a dragon?” Isaac murmured, still stunned.

“I was fine last time! And crossing the mountains should only take a few hours. I can do it!” Nils protested. Soren leaned against the muddy chest beside him. Honestly, Nils shouldn’t have shifted the last time either. His dragonstone had been dangerously low on energy and Soren had wanted to charter a ship instead, but Nils had transformed and hauled Soren onto his back before he could protest. Nils was certainly stubborn when he wanted to be.

“…I still think it’s a stupid plan, but it’s not like I can stop you.” Soren said. Nils let out a hoot of triumph. “Isaac, when does that caravan leave?”

“Tomorrow.” Isaac said, still a bit bewildered by his earlier discovery.

“Tomorrow?!” Nils and Soren exclaimed in unison.

“Yeah,” He said, “But it’s a regular caravan, it makes a full cycle every month. You can always catch the next one.” Nils shook his head.

“No, I don’t have much time as it is. I’m… I’m gonna go pack.” He got to his feet slowly and made his way to the bedrooms.

“Take whatever you need.” Soren offered with a wave of his hand, “I’ll prepare a map for you.”

“Thanks, Soren.” Nils smiled, and left the room.

Only the crackling of the fire could be heard for a short time. Soren traced absentminded circles in the dirt on the chest he was leaning against. Isaac made several attempted to speak, but only got as far as opening and closing his mouth a few times. Soren smirked as his identified the sounds.

“You have something to ask?” Soren said.

“Where do I start?” Isaac laughed. He slid his hand over the map in front of him, slowing down as he passed over Goldoa. “Is… Nils ok?”

Soren tilted his head to the side.

“Why do you ask that?” He asked.

“I dunno, he just seems a bit… anxious. I guess.” Isaac said. Soren hummed.

“You’re surprisingly perceptive.” He stretched his arms over his head and resituated himself while he spoke. “You’re right. He’s not well. He hasn’t been for a long time.”

“Is he sick?” Isaac asked. Soren shook his head.

“Not exactly,” He rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip, “From what I understand, Nils is from a place that’s very…different from this one. It’s difficult to explain but the magic in that place… isn’t found here. Without it… let’s just say it’s like Nils spent his life breathing water, and now he’s being forced to breath air. He can only keep this up for so long.” He leaned back on his palms, “I thought he might be able to find some answers in Goldoa, seeing as they’re dragons as well. But I’m not confident.”

“Why doesn’t he just go home, then?” Isaac questioned, “Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”

“It would, if that was all there was to it. But Nils has a sister, Ninian. Over the last couple years,” Soren tried to keep the bitterness from his voice, “she fell in love with a Beorc, and decided to stay here, even if her time would be limited. Nils is risking his life for a chance to extend hers, if only a little.”

“Oh…” Isaac wasn’t sure what else to say. “Wow…”

“Wow indeed.” Soren said with a nod. He waited for a few moments to make sure Isaac was finished questioning before getting to his feet and stretching out his calves. “Was that all you wanted to ask? Because I’d like to get to bed, if you don’t mind. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Ah. No, but uh… I think the rest can wait.” Isaac rubbed the back of his neck.

“In that case, douse the fire when you leave. You can leave it if you decide to stay here; I don’t care one way or another.” Soren said. Isaac got to his feet and placed a hand on Soren’s back to help guide him towards the bedroom doors – something he’d grown accustomed to over the last week.

“I can stay?” He asked, mouth a bit too close to Soren’s ear for Soren’s liking.

“Is that a problem?” Soren stopped moving and turned to face Isaac who considered him carefully for a few moments before smiling widely.

“Not at all. Goodnight.” He said. Soren nodded and disappeared into his room.

\-----

It was an incredibly hectic morning. The usual hustle and bustle of the morning market was amplified tenfold by the presence of the caravan in the town square. Isaac had to throw an arm around Soren and Nils on either side of him while he barreled through the crowd just so they didn’t get separated.

They finally found reprieve towards the end of the caravan. An older man was tending to the camels while his wife sat on the wagon weighing gold on a small bronze scale. Isaac released his captives and guided Soren towards the woman so he could negotiate Nils’ passage.

He glanced down at Nils who was nervously clutching a small leather pouch and twisting his toes in the sand.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah. Just anxious to get going.” Nils said. “This will be the first time I’m traveling alone since I left home.” Isaac flashed him a grin and ruffled his hair.

“Well don’t worry so much about it. The people here are nice enough – Speaking of…” His eye had caught a flash of white; a familiar figure dressed in burgundy with a large leather satchel on her back. “Good morning, Micaiah!” Micaiah turned around and waved at them.

“Good morning, Isaac.” She skipped over to him, “Is it your turn to accompany the caravan again?”

“Not this time. Today we’re here to drop Nils off.” He said. Micaiah turned her attention towards Nils and smiled even brighter.

“Oh! Where are my manners? You must be Soren’s friend! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” She held her hand out to him, and he took it.

“Nice to meet you too, Miss Micaiah.” Nils said with a faint flush in his cheeks.

“Oh, none of that! Just Micaiah will do. We have mutual friends, after all!” She chirped.

They were interrupted by Soren calling for Isaac who quickly excused himself to retrieve him.

“Well Nils, where are you traveling to?” She asked, the smile never leaving her eyes.

“Oh, um… Goldoa.” He said. Micaiah tapped her cheek with her forefinger, knowingly.

“Hmm then you’ll be traveling with this caravan longer than I will. It might be for a short time, but perhaps we can still keep each other company for a while. You can tell me all about what kind of trouble our dear wandering sage has been getting in to these past few years.” They both laughed.

“Don’t tell this meddling woman anything, Nils.” Soren tsked. “Not that there’s anything to tell.”

Nils laughed.

“Nothing to tell? Soren you _fought and won a war!_ Of course there’s something to tell!” He teased. Micaiah’s eyes lit up.

“Oh he did, did he? Well I suppose you’ll have plenty of time to tell me all about it once we get going.” She giggled. Soren released an angry huff and distracted himself by digging through his rucksack. He retrieved a large leather pouch and a thick stack of parchment and held them out, unsure of where Nils was exactly. It was too bright for him to see even blurry shapes with his partially restored eyesight so he had kept them closed all morning.

“Take these.” He said gruffly. Nils took the items tentatively, weighing each one carefully in his hands.

“Soren is this… is this gold?! It’s way too much! I couldn’t possibly-” Nils protested.

“Just take it. There are marks on the map I gave you where I’ve buried more. Retrieve it if you run into trouble.” Soren said. Micaiah and Nils stared at him.

“Are you… Soren do you _bury your gold?!_ ” Micaiah burst into laughter causing Soren’s face to scrunch up in annoyance.

“He does. I dug up a chest full of it last night. Just take it Nils. He’s got plenty, trust me.” Isaac said with a small smile. Micaiah was still giggling uncontrollably, while Nils reluctantly tucked the pouch into his satchel.

“Anyway,” Soren grumbled, “I’ve written letters of introduction for you to secure entrance into Goldoa. Give the sealed one to a man called Kurthnaga. He’ll see to it that you’re taken care of once you get there.” He paused, “And before you ask, I wrote them before the… _incident_. They’re perfectly legible.”

Nils looked at the letters warmly for a moment, then launched himself at Soren. He nearly knocked them both over with the force of his hug but Isaac caught and steadied them both before they tumbled into the sand.

“Nils! What-?!” Soren exclaimed, his face about as red and flustered as it could get. Nils squeezed him and buried his face in Soren’s chest.

“…thank you.” He said quietly. Soren abandoned the idea of struggling and resigned himself to the unexpected contact, lightly patting Nils on the back until he finally let go.

“We’d better go. I’ll take good care of Nils. See you both in a couple of weeks!” Micaiah said. She took Nils by the hand and they walked off towards a wagon in the middle, turning to wave at them every so often.

Isaac waved back as the caravan departed, but let out a big sigh once Nils and Micaiah were out of sight.

“What’s wrong?” Soren asked, his tone only slightly disinterested.

“Nothing. I just had so many questions I wanted to ask Nils about dragons.”

“About dragons?” Soren inquired, “Why the sudden interest?” He was decidedly more interested this time.

“It’s not sudden! I only know a little from books and stuff Mom told me. I never thought I’d get to meet a real one in person, you know? Seems like a wasted opportunity.” He said.

Soren grinned.

“You didn’t meet one; you met two.” He snickered, “Now let’s get going.” He pulled his hood over his head and opened his eyes, squinting at the blurry shapes around him and began to walk away from the marketplace.

Isaac stared at him, rooted to the spot.

“TWO!?” He shouted, running to catch up with the snickering mage.

\-----

“I don’t believe it… you’re a dragon. You’re actually a dragon!” Isaac moaned, face first in the thin grass lining the riverbank.

“…Are you actually going to help with the laundry, or are you going to keep rolling around like some misshapen marble?” Soren was knee deep in the water at the edge of the river, his current robe neatly folded next to a woven basket of laundry and his pants rolled up over his knees. He was kneading one of his black robes into a lather between his hands, periodically lifting it towards his face to smell it. There wasn’t any other way to tell if it was truly clean, after all.

Isaac rolled onto his side so he could see him. The river’s current wasn’t strong this time of year but it was present enough that Soren had to work to maintain his balance.

“Hey,” Isaac started, “How well can you see right now?” Soren snorted.

“I can see colors.” He said. Isaac rolled onto his back to stare at the clouds.

“Just colors, huh?” He murmured absentmindedly. In all honesty, Isaac was itching to see Soren without the linen wrappings. What he could see of the sage’s face was typically very difficult to read and the expressions he did show were subtle. If he could see his eyes at least, perhaps he’d have a better time picking up on his moods… or at least he’d have a better idea of whether or not Soren legitimately enjoyed his company. Then again, by the time the wrappings were off, he’d likely be able to see well enough that he wouldn’t require Isaac’s help anymore – though Isaac wasn’t sure how much he was actually helping.

He turned his head to watch Soren sloshing around along the riverbed. He was almost through the robes now, and would probably need help by the time he got to the sheets.

Isaac didn’t usually concern himself too much with paying attention to other’s expressions or what have you, but that might have been because he’d never had a problem with it before. Sure, his friends called him dense or thick, but he usually got the gist of things without having to think too hard about it.

But perhaps that was where the issue lied; Soren was, per Isaac’s experience, contradictory. He wondered how he could be so thoughtful and attentive towards a companion like Nils one moment, then say farewell and continue on as if nothing ever happened. Why would Soren travel almost obsessively around the world if there was nothing he wanted to see? And why did he have a home in a place he never visited? And why was that home in a desert north of Daein? Soren knew people in Goldoa, didn’t he? He had written Nils letters of introduction after all, so why hadn’t he settled there instead?

“Soren,” Isaac said, brow furrowed, “Why did you pick Arcadia?” Soren’s movements halted for the briefest of moments.

“I’m not sure what you mean. Come help me with the sheets.” He said, wringing out the last robe in the pile and placing it in a separate basket. Isaac rolled up his pants and trotted over to the water’s edge and scooped up the basket full of bed sheets.

“I mean, you’ve been all over the world, right? There’s gotta be better places to live. Why pick this one?” He pulled a sheet from the basket, handing two of the corners to Soren. He took them slowly.

“…I didn’t pick this one. My… partner did.” He said carefully. Isaac grinned, oblivious to Soren’s uneasy tone.

“Ah ha! So you do have a travelling companion. Why did you say you didn’t? Where are they? Can I meet them?” Isaac’s enthusiasm was curbed by Soren’s silence. Instead of responding, he seemed focused on getting the soap to lather. “…Soren?”

“I buried them here.” Soren said after a fair amount of time had passed.

Several things clicked into place in Isaac’s mind.

“Oh…” He said, “Sorry…” Soren simply shook his head.

“Don’t be,” His voice was strained, “That’s the fate of a Beorc, after all.” Isaac’s eyes widened.

“A Beorc?” He repeated.

“The finest there ever was.” Soren smiled softly but didn’t say anything else.

Isaac wasn’t sure what to make of this new information. For Soren to have chosen to associate closely with a Beorc of all things was baffling – he was destined to outlive them by a millennia at least! But… perhaps that was why he chose to travel alone now, having witnessed the short lifespan of someone close to him. Goddess knows Isaac was afraid of outliving his friends, even the ones he wasn’t very close to. He couldn’t really imagine what it would be like to bury any of them… or what it was like to live in what he assumed was a type of forced isolation afterwards.

They finished the rest of the laundry without another word, both lost in their own thoughts, but once they were out of the water and the cloth was safely tucked in the baskets, Soren reached for Isaac’s arm and motioned for him to sit.

He did so, but the words took a while to follow.

They sat side by side for a while, toes dug in the sand and damp laundry nearly forgotten. Isaac for once, didn’t mind waiting.

“How much do you actually know about me, Isaac?” Soren said after a time. It was a genuine question, devoid of malice.

“I’m… not sure how to answer that.” Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. Soren leaned back on his hands.

“You said you’ve read my books, and by that I assume you’ve read the observational diaries I kept – but did you read any of the ones I didn’t write? The tomes on history, at least?” He asked.

“I read all of them, even the ones that bored me to death,” Isaac chuckled, “It was the only way to learn about anywhere other than Daein. No one around here ever leaves… or talks about what it’s like out there.”

“I see. Then you probably read about the Mad King and Goddess War.” He said. Isaac nodded.

“I did. Dad – uh – Stefan fought in those, right?” He said.

Soren smiled.

“He did. He fought alongside me and my partner.” He said, “We were all exhausted after the war, no energy left for a life of politics at court. Stefan left the company and founded Arcadia, while my partner and I left to see what existed beyond the desert. He was the one with a love for new places, not me. I would have been content anywhere, really.”

Soren plucked a few strands of grass and twisted them between his fingers as he spoke.

“It was fine for a while, but it didn’t take long before war found us again… and again, and again. It was impossible to avoid, whether it was a small skirmish or a full-scaled rebellion. After a while we started chasing after rumors of wars instead, thinking that if we followed in its wake, we could at least avoid getting swept up in battle unexpectedly. We could avoid mercenary work at the very least, and help with reconstruction or establishing trade routes; things that would help villages recover.”

He turned his gaze upwards.

“We quickly discovered that wherever war went, divine weapons would follow. Those who held the divine weapons gained unprecedented strength and whatever their nature – good or ill – was amplified. The more power they gained, the more their influence spread and rumors would start to circulate: kill the wielder of a divine weapon and you’ll seize his power… and conflict would start all over again.”

Isaac continued to stare at Soren, captivated by the impromptu tale.

“So, we decided to gather the divine weapons up ourselves – dozens of them scattered across countries all over the world. Once we had them, we’d find a safe place and lock them away. It didn’t solve the problem completely, but you could say it stemmed the bleeding a bit.” Soren was quiet for a moment, “When he grew too old to continue, he suggested accepting Stefan’s invitation to come here.”

“And… after he died?” Isaac asked cautiously.

“I simply… continued the work we started.” Soren let out a deep unsteady breath. “Though I was a bit unlucky the last few years. I got shipwrecked ashore a country I’d never been to only to get swept up in yet another war. That’s where I met Nils.”

A warm breeze ruffled their hair, and Soren seemed content to end the story there.

“Then… I guess when your sight returns you’ll leave to finish collecting the rest of the weapons…?” It was less a question than it was a statement.

“I suppose so.” Soren said, “In any case, I’ve said enough. The laundry needs drying.” He moved to stand, but Isaac remained seated.

There was a question burning the back of his throat. Dare he ask? Soren was being unusually forthcoming with his personal details. Usually he was buttoned up tighter than a woman’s boot.

He swallowed and spoke.

“Do you regret it?” He asked. Soren tilted his head in confusion, brow slightly furrowed. “Being with a Beorc, I mean. Traveling with him.” Isaac clarified.

Soren gave him a small smile.

“I don’t.” He answered almost instantly, “But I wouldn’t recommend it either. It’s not… something I want to experience again.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, “I’m… tired… of watching the people around me disappear.”

“What if,” Isaac chewed his lip, “What if the other party was a dragon?” Isaac tried to keep his nerves out of his voice, “Would you consider traveling with them?”

 Soren stared at him best he could while being partially blind.

“What are you implying, Isaac?” He prodded, his voice low. Isaac’s eyes darted from side to side.

“I’m not… implying… I just.” He ran his fingers through his hair, “I know I asked once already, but that was because I thought it would be nice to travel with someone I admired for a time and maybe I could learn something…”

“…and now?”

“Now?” Isaac’s mouth felt dry, “Now I… I don’t know. I just never thought I’d meet another Branded like me.”

Soren’s eyes widened beneath the bandages so comically that even Isaac noticed.

“You… You’re a dragon Branded.” It was definitely not a question.

Isaac smiled weakly.

“I’ve always wanted to travel because I knew I was going to outlive everyone in the village, including my mother.” He said looking up at Soren, “I didn’t want to be alone my whole life.”

Isaac silently cursed himself. There were so many more things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words. He wanted to tell Soren how he’d dreamt of traveling the world together, learning everything he could from the one he revered as a teacher. He wanted to tell him about how he was scared of getting too close to people – even Brandeds – because he couldn’t bear to think of them leaving him behind. He wanted to talk about the possibility of finding that _one person_ who would share their life with him and that he, in turn, could share his life with as well… but he couldn’t. The words stayed lodged in his throat and it was all he could do to hope that Soren understood what he wanted to say without him… saying it.

Neither of them moved for a time, both busy digesting new information. They were content to listen to the rushing water and the rustling of the palm fronds in the wind.

“It’s funny,” Soren smiled that confident but wary smile, “Talking to you makes me feel rather nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic…? Really?” Isaac asked with a hint of incredulous amusement. The tension from earlier dissipated with Soren’s change in mood.

Soren hummed and stood up, stretching as he did so. He hesitated a moment but held his hand out to Isaac to help him stand up. The gesture, though seemingly unnecessary, was perhaps more an offering of friendship than anything else.

Isaac grinned and let Soren haul him to his feet.

“Goddess, you’re heavy. What has Stefan been feeding you?” Soren grumbled. The statement caught Isaac off guard but he laughed anyway. Soren put a little too much strength into pulling him up – the overcompensation caused Isaac to stumble a little and knocked Soren clear off his feet with a yelp.

They toppled over, crashed into the laundry baskets and tumbled down the bank into the river with an enormous splash.

They resurfaced quickly, Soren gasping for air through the thick hair coating his face, and Isaac coughing up an unwanted mouthful of water.

They took a moment to catch their breath.

Isaac stole a glance at Soren peeling his soaking bangs away from his face and burst into laughter again. Soren glared at him through soggy linen, but couldn’t suppress a small grin.

It was short lived.

“Shit! Isaac! The laundry!” He splashed around the water trying to feel for any kind of fabric but came up empty handed.

“Oh…crap! You just… stay there! I’ll get it!” Isaac clumsily sloshed through the waist deep water flailing around and snatching up every piece of fabric he could find, cursing all the while.

Soren might not have been able to see anything clearly, but as he tucked the rest of his bangs behind his ears, he couldn’t help thinking that this felt nostalgic as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I have no idea where the laundry scene came from… but I’m glad it came about.  
> I would also like to add that we have now entered the second month of the story… aaaaaaaaaaand I have 10 months to go AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA  
> Why did I think this was a good idea? XD


	4. June - July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, confession time: I’ve actually cut at least 6 scenes from this fic in an effort to curb my long-windedness and because I wasn’t sure you guys wanted to read a bunch of chapters of domestic/daily life stuff when there’s romantic drama to be had (these chapters are edging on 7k words each as it is). Most of those six scenes are condensed into this chapter. I kind of feel like this might make their development feel a little rushed, but… I think being a little rushed is better than being bored. Also there are just SCENES I WANT TO WRITE OK???? I can only talk about the peaceful life of an Arcadian Branded for so lonnnnngggggg.... QAQ
> 
> I’m dying.
> 
> (also I’m renaming all the chapters to match the time period they cover. I think it’ll help give some more context as to the passage of time.)

There was a definite shift in the relationship between Isaac and Soren post laundry day. Soren, for one, no longer appeared reluctant to share in Isaac’s company. Isaac, on the other hand, had grown quite attached to Soren, often forgoing invitations from his friends to spend time with him regardless of whether or not he needed Isaac’s assistance at the time. It was a comfortable arrangement much like the one Soren had with Nils, but with far less tension and anxiety underneath it all.

Isaac had made it his mission to get Soren out of the house more often and dropped by nearly every morning to drag Soren with him on his rounds while on guard duty. Soren found it harder and harder to turn Isaac down – especially since his eyesight was improving and that was really his only excuse to avoid venturing into the heart of the village.

This newfound companionship had a surprising but welcome side effect for Soren. More often than not, he would find himself waking in the morning, not from nightmares or painful memories, but from a restful sleep – something that had been avoiding him for decades.

It certainly did wonders to lift his mood.

He thought about it at length one day when Isaac made a pitstop at a family farm during his rounds. Isaac had run off to help the men sheer sheep, while Soren was left behind to shell beans with the women and children – a task that didn’t require his sight.

On the one hand, Soren relished the changes in their dynamic. Isaac had become such important an existence to Soren that he was seriously considering accepting Isaac’s offer to travel together. They were both dragon Branded, so neither would outlive the other. They could become lifelong… friends, if Soren were only bold enough to think of them as such. Usually one to prioritize solitude, the thought was strangely calming.

The last person who he’d felt so strongly about was Ike. Of course, that was a different situation entirely – he was in love with Ike, after all – but it was nice to know that he could recapture even a fragment of the happiness he’d had with Ike. Maybe a thousand years of living would be tolerable with a good friend at his side. He’d never truly had one of those before… not one like this, anyway and Ike didn’t count.

…But on the other hand, he was worried. Isaac was young. It was only a matter of time before he’d meet a sweet girl and want to settle down with her. And who was Soren to deny him that bliss? He had tasted it himself; he knew the thrill, the fulfillment. But a wife would demand attention, and where would that leave Soren? Should he decide to stay nearby, he’d have to suffer through watching the two of them experience a relationship he could only dream of reliving.

He’d probably be better off leaving Isaac behind in Arcadia. Perhaps then he’d be able to look back on this time as a fond memory rather than chase a few happy years only to suffer through the rest. Was it worth it? In some ways yes, in others no.

He was quite honestly conflicted about the whole thing.

It was with fleeting thoughts of this nature that Soren arrived at Micaiah’s a few weeks later. He was due for a checkup and Stefan had called Isaac back for some pressing business. Soren’s eyes had recovered to the point where he could slowly navigate the main roads without falling in the early morning light before the streets filled with people without Isaac’s assistance. He hoped that was a good sign.

Unlike the last time, Soren felt no dread as he knocked on Micaiah’s door; no reluctance to see the woman he usually couldn’t stand.

…until he heard _it._

A high pitched shriek and a giggle followed by a series of thumping footsteps and Micaiah’s muffled voice. He slowly pulled his hand back from the door and stared at it like it was a curtain of cobras.

Maybe he should just come back later.

The door swung open just as he started to turn around, and there Micaiah stood, a small, chubby human… _thing_ … tucked under one arm. Her cheeks were a bit flushed. She flinched when the child reached up and tugged her hair.

“Linnea, stop – no, let go of that… ouch! Sorry Soren, I’ll just be a minute. Come in and have a seat, would you?” Micaiah shooed him inside and resituated the tiny toddler in both arms this time. Soren sat stiffly in the closest chair by the table, watching the two of them with wary eyes. Micaiah shushed and cooed at Linnea, rocking her gently but her gaze traveled all over the room. “Soren? Is there a doll on the table?”

A doll? Soren took a quick but cautious look around. He almost opened his mouth to ask what it looked like, but stopped himself short as he spotted a brown misshapen lump on the table.

“…Is this it?” He asked, holding it up. He winced as the toddler gave another happy shriek.

“Yes it is! Thank you!” Micaiah chirped. She plucked it from his fingers and set the baby down in a small crib in the middle of the room, doll in hand. Linnea stuffed it in her mouth, trading the high pitched shrieks for quiet humming sounds as she suckled on it.

“Sorry, sorry,” She said, taking the seat next to him and scooting closer, “It’s been a long time since I’ve taken care of a child. I fear I might be a bit rusty!” She laughed. Indeed she sounded tired… but more than that Soren could hear the happiness in her voice. Certainly she had been cheerful the last time they met, but it had felt a little forced. This time it felt genuine.

“…She seems to be adjusting well without her parents.” He mused sparing a blurry glance towards the toddler suckling on her cloth doll.

“Hmm… well, her circumstances are a little complicated. Look towards me please. I need to remove the bandages.” She said.

“She’s an illegitimate child then?” Soren asked as Micaiah unwound the wrappings around his yes.

“Something like that. I don’t expect she’ll ever be welcome at court... but it’s not all bad. I can at least give her a better childhood than I – than we had.” She met his eyes for a brief moment of understanding as the bandages were finally set aside. Soren said nothing. “Now let’s hurry before she loses interest and starts screaming again.”

\-----

“You wanted to see me?” Isaac ducked under the canvas entrance to the guard tent. Stefan was seated on some floor pillows, several piles of papers strewn about around him.

“Ah, Isaac. Good timing. Take a seat, I wanted to talk to you.” He said, shuffling the papers in his hands. He reached for a sheet from a nearby shelf and handed it to Isaac, now seated across from him. Isaac stared at the document.

“An escort mission?” He said. Stefan picked up his long stem pipe and took a long drag from it.

“An apothecary in town secured a trade deal. They’ll be sending several cases of medicine to Cambria so they’ll need an escort to make sure the cargo gets there safely. What do you think? You up for it?” Stefan spoke through a thin haze of smoke. Isaac furrowed his brow.

“Well, yeah but… Who’s going to help Soren? His eyesight is better but it’s still not good enough for him to be left alone…” He said. Stefan dismissed him with his pipe.

“Just take him with you.” He suggested.

“…seriously?” Isaac blinked.

“Why not? He’s been cooped up in this village long enough. I’m sure the outing would do him some good. And he seems to like you well enough.” Stefan donned a sly grin, “It’s certainly better than having a blind man demonstrate magic for the children.”

“…you heard about that huh?” Isaac rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Isaac you burned down part of the schoolhouse and set one of the children on fire – of _course_ I heard about it.” At least Stefan didn’t sound angry. It may have been a bad idea in hindsight, but the children had actually enjoyed the display, charred parts and all. “Not one of your better ideas…”

“He didn’t mean to, and they asked him to come back anyway.” Isaac mumbled.

“Not until he can see again, he won’t. Anyway, just ask him. This is your chance to travel with your idol you know?” Stefan said, taking another drag of his pipe.

“It only takes two days there and back. That hardly counts as traveling.” Isaac chuckled.

“Whatever you say, kid. If he doesn’t want to go, I’ll check in on him while you’re gone. If he does, then seize the moment. Now get going. The apothecary is expecting you today so they can go over the details. Fill me in later.” Stefan winked at him, then laughed at Isaac’s confused expression as he shoved him out of the tent. 

\-----

“You’re healing up rather nicely.” Micaiah released a deep breath and removed her hands from Soren’s temple. “Slower than I would like, but you should be able to remove the wrappings within the next few days. You’ll still be sensitive to light but it shouldn’t be as bad as it has been.”

“I’m so used to the blurriness now I’m not sure I remember what it’s like to see without it.” Soren said. Micaiah laughed.

“Well, you should be back to normal by the time the Midsummer Festival arrives.” That was only a couple months away.

Any further conversation was halted by Lennea’s shrill cry and Micaiah’s hurried scramble to get to her.

Soren wasn’t fond of children, but he had to admit that the fuzzy sight of Micaiah bouncing a squirmy toddler on her hip was strangely… endearing.

“Motherhood suits you, dawn maiden.” He said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Oh? That’s quite a compliment coming from you. Are you growing soft in your old age? Or maybe you’d like to be an uncle?” She quipped playfully. Soren snorted.

“Not likely. You’ll just try to get me to babysit.” He said. She giggled.

“Darn. You caught me.” She placed a kiss on the top of Lennea’s head, drawing a happy squeal from her. “Is Isaac good with children?” Soren paused in the midst of tying up his hair to shoot her a strange look.

“I wouldn’t know.” He said carefully. Micaiah’s grin widened.

“Are you sure? Because I heard you two were quite popular with the village children last week.” She said with a playful lilt. Soren winced but continued to re-wrap his eyes.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He said unconvincingly.

“Soren you set a child on _fire._ ” She laughed.

“Not intentionally!” He growled.

“Mm hmm.” Her grin was still disgustingly wide, but her teasing was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Why, I do think hubby-dearest is here to pick you up. Give him my best would you?” Soren frowned at the implication, but didn’t bother to berate Micaiah for it.

\-----

Isaac was beginning to regret taking on this escort mission.

Not that he would ever regret the chance to travel with Soren, but the clients they were accompanying were proving to be a right pain in the ass.

No, that wasn’t quite right. The apothecary herself was a lovely, robust woman. Isaac had no problems with her.

Her daughter on the other hand…

The trip had started out rather tense. The mother and daughter pair were quite wary of Soren, and in retrospect, Isaac couldn’t really blame them. Soren’s cool demeanor, curt language, partially concealed face, and long black robes gave him an intimidating presence that was fairly jarring at first blush. When the apothecary’s daughter caught sight of him the first time, she shrieked and quickly hid behind Isaac, seemingly convinced that Soren was one curse away from slaughtering the lot of them.

It took a lot of convincing on Isaac’s part to persuade the pair to let Soren tag along and while he did manage it, the daughter was using Soren as an excuse to cling to Isaac.

He was incredibly uncomfortable with the situation.

However, by the time the four of them reached the forest’s edge, Soren had somehow coaxed the apothecary into a polite dialog about her wares. It wasn’t long before the woman was waxing poetic about her family and business, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Soren had all but fallen out of the conversation. Isaac realized quickly, after Soren had nudged him lightly on the shoulder with a sneaky grin, that Soren wasn’t paying attention to the woman at all. He instigated the conversation just to keep her occupied.

Isaac was definitely impressed. He wondered if Soren did that kind of thing often.

But while the apothecary was monologging, her daughter was scooching closer and closer to where he was seated in the wagon. He was familiar with her – he knew most of the people his own age quite well – and did seem to recall her being rather touchy-feely, but not to this extent. He had barely managed to pry her off when they were loading up the wagon. It was like she wanted to weld herself to his arm.

It gave him goose bumps and not the good kind.

Isaac had to lean against Soren to avoid the girl’s advances. Fortunately the mage did seem to sympathize with Isaac’s plight since he would obligingly scoot over to make more room for him whenever she got too close for comfort.

Which…was unfortunately often.

They continued this strange dance of sorts for nearly an entire lap around the inside of the wagon before the apothecary – assuming that Soren was listening to the one-sided conversation they’d been having – decided she wanted to play matchmaker.

The daughter eyed Isaac like a chunk of meat.

“Now when’re you gonna get married, Isaac? Yer what, twenty five? Anyone on yer mind?” The apothecary asked glancing over her shoulder and throwing them all a wink. She was steering the oxen and, fortunately or not, was unable to see the subtle chase scene in the back of the wagon. 

“Ah, no ma’am. I’m uh, not really interested at the moment.” He said, shifting in his seat. He nudged Soren hard with his shoulder when he heard the mage snicker at him.

The daughter scooted closer, staring at him wide-eyed, flushed and nibbling on her plump lower lip.

“Aww, come on now! Don’t be like that! Surely there’s someone that’s caught yeh fancy?” Isaac was dead certain that it wasn’t hot enough out for that girl to be showing so much cleavage. The forest was always considerably cooler than the desert.

“Soren, switch seats with me.” Isaac whispered out of the corner of his mouth, glancing warily at the girl beside him. Soren merely grinned in response. “Come on, please?”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Soren quipped in a low voice, shit eating grin still smeared all over his face.

“Well maybe you just haven’t met the right girl yet,” The apothecary said, “You know, my Clarissa is single.” Soren’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as the girl scooched ever closer.

She leaned towards him, glancing upwards with long fluttering lashes.

Isaac stood abruptly.

“You know what? I think I’ve been sitting for too long. How about you and I walk alongside the wagon for a while, huh Soren? Stretch our legs a bit.” He hoisted Soren up by the wrist without waiting for his consent, and promptly dismounted off the back of the wagon, pulling Soren with him.

The daughter stared after them with a tearful pout.

“So,” Soren said once they were out of earshot with a grin still lingering on his lips, “It has been brought to my attention that you haven’t found the right girl yet.” Isaac rolled his eyes.

“Don’t you start.” He said. Soren hummed and plucked a leaf from a low hanging branch, rolling it absentmindedly between his fingers as they walked.

“Color me curious. I’ve heard you mention some of your friends, but never a woman. And…if that girl in there is any indication,” he motioned to the wagon, “It seems like you could have your pick.”

“They’re people, not livestock, Soren.” Isaac sighed, “You can just _pick_ one. I mean, I want to really get to know a person before I… think about doing anything else with them.”

“Yes, well you were certainly doing a lovely job of getting to know the apothecary’s daughter. Bravo.” Soren drawled sarcastically.

“Oh shut up. I’m not interested.” Isaac chuckled.

“In women in general? Or just the apothecary’s daughter?” Soren probed.

They slowed their steps as the path grew narrow to allow the wagon to get ahead of them. Soren probably hadn’t been anticipating Isaac’s silence, but he patiently waited for a reply all the same.

“I just,” Isaac struggled to find the words he wanted. Relationship talk usually made him uneasy – most Branded having a difficult time with the concept of outliving your partner by centuries, but if anyone would understand his perspective, it would probably be Soren.

He took a deep breath.

“I don’t really get the whole… relationship… thing.” He scratched the back of his neck, “I feel like I just woke up one morning and everyone was playing some new secret game called ‘romance’ and no one would tell me how to play. One day we were all hanging out like normal, the next everyone’s paired up and talking about things I don’t understand. It was weird.”

Isaac could feel Soren’s gaze boring into him from behind the bandages. He didn’t try to meet his gaze, just took a deep breath and continued talking.

“Most of my friends are married now, ya know? Or at least close to it. I feel like I should be on the same page as them but… it feels so forced. Or shallow… or rushed or something, I dunno. I just don’t want to be a part of something so… flimsy.” He kicked a small rock down the forest path.

“What do you want then?” Soren asked, oddly serious given the initial playful tone the conversation started with. Isaac looked at him briefly, then turned his gaze upwards, thoughtful.

“…Promise you won’t laugh?” He asked with a sideways glance.

“I will make no such promise.” Soren said with a small grin. Isaac shoulder bumped him, and laughed as Soren regained his balance and glowered at him.

He bit his lip. Soren had been taking him seriously thus far; that was more than he could say for most of his friends – and to an extent, his family. Maybe this wouldn’t be as embarrassing.

Only one way to find out.

“So uh, ever since I was a kind I’ve been dreaming of this… _girl…_ ” His eyes closed for a moment, “I don’t know who she is or what she looks like, and I don’t remember anything else about what’s supposed to be going on, but I do know that she’s supposed to be special to me. And… while I’m dreaming of her it’s like… I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s amazing.” Isaac let out a deep breath and tried to detangle the jumble of words in his head, “That’s what I want. Not the girl – I don’t remember her at all – but the feeling I get after I wake up from that dream. I always thought that must be what it feels like… to be in… uh, love and stuff.” He started to mumble towards the end, cheeks a bit pink.

Isaac paused when he heard stifled sputtering sounds coming from his companion, only to find Soren hunched over with his hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

“Soren?” Isaac reached out to him, concerned that he may not be feeling well, “Are you oka-”

He burst into uncharacteristic laughter before Isaac could touch him.

“A – hahaha – a dream – ahahahaa – a dream girl,” Every couple of words was accompanied by a raucous round of laughter, “You actually have a dream girl – ehehahahahaa! I can’t-” Isaac felt his cheeks flush darker as Soren’s laughter dwindled into uncontrollable giggles.

Well, at least he didn’t promise not to laugh.

“Aw, c’mon, Soren! I was being serious!” He whined. That only made Soren laugh harder.

 “S-sorry,” Soren managed to say as his laughter finally began to fade, “Ah, sorry. I wasn’t – hooo – laughing at you… it was just so… _unexpected._ ”

 “I don’t want to hear that from someone with a stash of romance novels in his closet.” Isaac was not expecting Soren to whip his head around to stare at him from behind thin bandages.

“You WHAT?” He nearly shrieked.

“Oh, were those supposed to be a secret?” Isaac grinned.

“You-! Those…! I-I just picked them up somewhere and stuffed them in the closet. Forgot I even had them.” Soren’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Right, so the bookmarks were all _coincidentally_ placed-” Soren slapped a hand over Isaac’s mouth, expression darkening.

“Not. Another. Word.” He hissed. Isaac rolled his eyes and gave the hand a good lick; Soren jerked it back with a yelp of surprise.

“Don’t worry,” Isaac chuckled, “I won’t tell anyone about your secret love of romance novels.” He teased.

“At least I don’t have a dream girl.” Soren retaliated, his earlier embarrassment gone.

“I told you, I don’t have a _dream girl_ ,” he made hand quotes during the words he emphasized, “I barely even remember what she looks like when I wake up. It’s just… that’s how I think it should feel… around a girl. Or _the_ girl, whatever.” He ran his hand through his hair, “It’s not like I’m looking for someone _like_ her. And even if I did find someone like that I’d probably outlive them and -” Isaac stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of the look on Soren’s face, “…sorry.”

Suddenly, Isaac couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

For a short time they let the calm of the forest take over, content to walk side by side and watch the wind rustle the leaves.

“I do want it, though.” Isaac said after a time. Soren glanced up at him slightly puzzled, “A relationship. It’s just… _hard,_ since… you know…”

“Yeah,” Soren’s voice sounded sore, somehow; each syllable softer than the last, “I know.” He let his gaze fall to the ground and let the creaking of the wagon wheels fill the silence between them.

\-----

Cambria was a lively port town, not too big and not too small, with wide roads for shops in Cambria opened and closed whenever they pleased; it made for far less congestion and allowed for purchases to be made leisurely, often after lots of haggling over the cost of goods.

The port itself was also a place of business, sailing merchants often setting up shop right at the docks for easy loading and unloading. Isaac was certain that there were at least twice as many ships as the last time he visited.

Cambria sure grew quickly.

The apothecary had parked her wagon at the end of one of the docks, leaving Isaac, Soren and her daughter to keep watch over her wares. While not quite as glamorous as gold bricks or gemstones, a wagon full of medicine was still extremely valuable. This was especially true of Arcadian medicine as it was made from rare herbs only found in the Arcadian and Serenes Forest. Soren had mentioned that there was likely a small fortune on board that wagon; a single crate holding enough elixir to cleanse an entire village of plague.

Luckily, the apothecary’s daughter Clarissa was much like her mother in that when it came to business, she had eyes for little else. Now presented with the opportunity to make a profit, her focus had shifted almost entirely away from pursuing Isaac… though she did stand a little closer than necessary while she was doing inventory.

“Alright, kids! Start unloadin’ that cargo. I want to close this deal before the sun goes down, so get to it!” The apothecary cackled while jingling a large leather sack of coins, a large rugged man covered in scars by her side. Soren grumbled under his breath something about being at least twice her age and by no means a child, but he moved to help Isaac unload the crates anyway.

The sun began to set as they unloaded the wagon. The apothecary, Clarissa and the burly man – Isaac assumed he was the buyer – continued to talk shop. Slowly the crowds on the port streets began to thin and the lamplighters* replaced them, flitting about like fireflies.

“Twenty four crates, all accounted for.” The apothecary stated proudly, “What’dya think? Do we have a deal?”

“Indeed we do,” The man grinned and held out his thick hand, “Pleasure doin’ business with yeh.” Before the apothecary could take his hand, Soren spoke.

“Ah, a moment, if you would,” He said. The merchants turned to look at him, confusion splashed all over their features. Isaac couldn’t fathom why Soren would interrupt a deal in the making. It was quite unlike him. “Might I inquire as to where you got that blade at your side?”

The man touched the long blade at his hip. It was a beautiful thing, a small violet gem set in the hilt; thick red leather wound round the grip and an intricate silver cross-guard set against the embossed scabbard’s locket. “This old thing?” He asked. Soren nodded. “Well, it’s just something I picked up on me travels. Got it from a fine young lass I did.” How could Soren even see that sword? Had his eyesight recovered that much?

“I see. I suppose you didn’t get a very good look at her face before you threw her overboard then, did you?” Soren’s smile was malicious, cocky, reminiscent of a cat cornering a very tiny mouse.

“Soren, what are you doing?” Isaac hissed. The apothecary and her daughter wore mixed expressions of confusion and irritation. The man, who had been slouching slightly, straightened his back slowly, and titled his head to look down his nose at Soren like he was an undesirable bit of sea sludge.

“Wut exactly are you implyin’, lit’l one?” He said, taking a small step forward. Soren wasn’t backing away; Isaac slid one of his feet back slightly, ready to draw his blade.

Something didn’t feel right.

“I’m not implying anything. You simply remind me of a _pirate_ I had a small run in with a few years ago off the coast of Lycia.” Soren lifted his face and lowered his hood. The man’s eye’s locked onto the red mark on his forehead and widened. He face split into a grin.

“Well, now… wasn’t expectin’ ta see you again. I suppose yeh’ll be wantin’ this back, eh?” He thrust his leg forward, gesturing to the blade.

“If you would be so kind.” Soren’s voice was even, calm, as he held his hand out. Isaac’s eyes darted between the two of them, his pulse thrumming just under the skin. This man was no ordinary merchant. His presence had shifted from friendly to hostile with just a few words and Isaac could feel that previously masked murderous intent radiating off of him in thick waves. His nerves were buzzing with a mixture of anxiety and excitement in equal measure. Sure he was a swordsman, a skilled one even, but he had little experience in the way of real-world combat. If this man attacked, they might be in serious trouble.

Didn’t Soren sense any danger at all?

Quick as a flash the man had the blade drawn. Isaac cursed and drew his own blade but not fast enough; the enemy blade ripped through the air, slicing some of the bandages around Soren’s head and leaving a faint trail of blood in its wake. Soren must have been anticipating the move, for it was a glancing blow – he dodged with unexpected ease and before Isaac could so much as strike at the pirate, Soren had a tome in hand and a spell surging around his wrist.

Barely a split second later, the pirate was blown backwards into a piling by the sharp tendrils of wind at Soren’s command, with a force just shy of a fatal blow. His blade flew into the air and landed at Soren’s feet.

“GET THEM!” He roared with pain and rage, unable to stand, but trying.

“Look sharp, Isaac.” Soren said, his voice still composed, even as he readied another wind spell.

He heard the arrows coming before he saw them, but Soren had readied his second spell and splintered them in mid-air. Isaac had no time to marvel, however; three burly men with axes came barreling towards him. He dropped into a fighting stance and swung. Sparks flew as he struck metal – he spun, blade in both hands and ripped through one of the men, catching himself and reversing direction just in time to parry the next. This one was stronger than the last and forced him backwards with frightening brute strength.

He cursed and regained his balance, bracing for the next strike.

A parry, a missed slice, two more parries – metal met metal repeatedly.

Isaac could feel his muscles burning from disuse – he’d been slacking off on training a little too much since Soren arrived – but he managed to push through it and thrust his blade the pirate’s stomach, whirling around to cut down another behind him, barely avoiding a stray axe.

He jumped when a warm weight hit his back, nearly swinging his sword at it in a panic.

“I think I took down the archers. Isaac, I’ll follow your lead. Just tell me where to aim.” Soren instructed, voice low and only slightly winded. Isaac grunted in affirmation. He wasn’t alone in this fight.

The next wave of pirates came quickly with a chilling battle cry. “Get ready.” Soren muttered. Isaac could feel the breeze flowing against his back from Soren’s idling spell. It was comforting, somehow, and just like that his nerves disappeared.

They took on the next wave of pirates fighting back to back, circling and striking in turn. The pirates fell one after the other, none willing to retreat. He’d catch sight of a glint of red amidst the shredded bandages and peridot sparks of the wind spells – as long as it wasn’t Soren’s blood, everything was fine. Cries of _there’s only two of them_ and _get them you fools_ rang about the port amidst the screams of whatever villagers were still on the streets, the clang of metal on metal and the rushing of Soren’s violent winds.

Isaac’s blood was _racing_.  

The odds were near impossible; he hadn’t bothered to count, but he must have cut through at least a dozen battle-worn pirates and Soren a dozen more.

It was exhilarating.

The pair of them moved so well together, _fit so well_ together that he felt as though they could take on an entire army – just the pair of them – and make it out alive. Every movement was easy, fluid, and deadly.

He almost didn’t notice when the last pirate fell at Soren’s feet, magic still flickering at his fingertips. The both held their stances, breathing heavy, but even. For a moment all sound vanished, the battle won, the pair victorious.

A fleeting sense of peace settled on them.

Then all at once the sound came gushing back. The town guard finally arrived and with the pirate threat neutralized, a horde of townsfolk descended upon them as well.

The next few minutes were a blur of questions, praise, and a flurry of instructions. Isaac was faintly aware of Soren curtly answering questions in his place, but he could barely feel his arms, his brain felt a bit like cotton and everyone was so damn _loud—_

He vaguely remembered the apothecary thanking them both and saying something else but it hardly mattered to him at the time. His gaze was fixed on Soren’s hand around his wrist as he led him away from the crowd to a neighboring vacant dock.

when the adrenaline finally dissipated and his brain caught up with the rest of him, Soren was treating some minor scrapes on Isaac’s arm with a vulnerary. He flinched as the mage rubbed the waxy salve into his skin and the familiar healing burn set in.

“For someone who’s never seen real combat before, you fought well.” Soren said.

Isaac looked up at him, a reply ready on his tongue, and froze.

The first strike the pirate captain had taken had sliced through most of Soren’s bandages leaving them stained with red from the small wound at his temple and hanging loosely around his face like thin cotton ribbons.

Beneath them, Isaac could see his eyes.

He had caught a glimpse of red during the fight but hadn’t dwelled on it too much. He was glad for that because Soren’s eyes we upturned, clear, the richest shade of scarlet Isaac had ever seen and extremely _distracting_.

He must have been staring because those eyes met his and narrowed ever so slightly.

“Isaac?” Soren said. Isaac shook his head to try to regain his focus. “Are you alright?”

Why was he so damn flustered?

“H-huh? Yeah! Yeah, I’m good! I’m… good. I’m just uh, still a little wound up from the fight.” He said. Soren gave him a small smile that made Isaac’s heart leap into his throat. The subtleties of Soren’s expressions were so much easier to decipher when he could see his entire face.

Soren hummed and rubbed some of the vulnerary against the wound on his temple, then set about removing the bandages from around his face.

“Umm, are your eyes ok? I thought they couldn’t be exposed to light.” Isaac tried to keep his voice even but it was difficult when his heart was pounding in his throat.

“Hm? Oh, it’s fine. I was going to remove them soon anyway. I can see well enough… though it’s still rather blurry. I should be alright with just the hood.” Soren said as he removed the final strip.

Isaac swallowed.

_Hard._

He was faintly aware that Soren was saying something – he was holding that pirate’s blade from earlier and fiddling with it – but Isaac couldn’t quite process any of the words. He simply stared at Soren’s freshly exposed face.

And oh, what a face it was.

Soren had bone structure befitting nobility; elegant enough to be considered beautiful in an androgynous way, but strong enough that he’d rarely be mistaken for a woman. The lack of facial hair and thick lashes gave him a youthful impression – though Isaac was certain by now Soren was well over a hundred years – but his eyes, _oh goddess those eyes_ , were red and shrewd and _stunning_.

He suddenly felt very self-conscious.

“Isaac? ISAAC.” Soren startled him from his thoughts.

“Ye –” he cleared his throat, “Yeah?”  Soren frowned at him.

“Maybe we should take you to a healer before dinner…” He mused.

“Huh? No, no. I’m fine. I’m totally fine. Still a little uh, flustered,” that might have been an understatement, “So… we should probably get back to the docks? I’m fine now, and we kinda left the job unfinished.” Isaac said. Soren let out an irritated huff.

“There, see? I knew it. You haven’t been paying attention at all,” Soren scolded, “We’ve been given the evening off.”

“Huh?” Isaac blinked.

“The town guard is taking care of the remaining pirates and they’re moving the apothecary’s cargo to a safe location where they can guard it until another buyer is found.” Soren said, “Really, Isaac, how did you manage these jobs alone? I’m surprised you didn’t get yourself killed.” Isaac laughed nervously.

“I don’t usually pick fights with pirates. What was that about anyway?” He asked. Soren blew some of his bangs away from his eyes.

“I already told you. This sword,” He gestured to the one the pirate had attacked him with earlier, “Is a divine weapon. I lost it ten years ago when the ship I was on was boarded and sunk.”

“Oh. Soooo what happens to it now? You usually seal those things away, right?” Looking at the blade now, Isaac couldn’t help but feel like it was a shame. It was a beautiful broadsword; ornate but not gaudy.

“…Typically I do, yes. But I was actually thinking of giving this one to you,” Soren tapped the pommel twice with his fingers, “You’re current blade is too heavy. It makes your swings too wide and leaves you open to counter attacks for too long. This one suits you better.”

“Wha-? B-but wait a minute, I thought you said divine weapons corrupt people?!” Isaac sputtered.

“No, I said they amplify your dominant nature. I’ve spent enough time around you to know you’ll be fine.” Soren held the blade out towards him, “Take it.”

Isaac felt his pulse quicken as his fingers curled round the grip. It felt light, far lighter than he had expected given its length and wide blade, and whatever kind of malicious blowback he expected to encounter was completely absent. It simply felt like a normal blade – albeit, an extremely nice blade.

 When he looked up to meet Soren’s gaze again, he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I want to write an action scene? Why? Why did I do this?
> 
> I feel like the action was rougher to write than these stoooooopid boys talking stoooooopidly about their stooooopid feelings. Bleh. It was probably cooler in my head. 
> 
> Awkward Ike tripping over his feelings gives me life.
> 
> *lamplighters: Those people who run around lighting the candles in streetlights (before electricity, yo; light magic is expensive)


	5. August

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, guys. I’ve been really dreading and looking forward to writing this chapter as it has one of two scenes that made me want to write this fic in the first place and it was damn tricky getting this down on paper. 
> 
> 6k words later... well, I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Thanks to HT for the beta-reading and brainstorming! =u=b
> 
> (Oh before I forget. Smut warning starts here. Just an FYI)

The Cambria job turned into a mini-vacation for Isaac and Soren soon after the pirates had been routed. The town guard provided a safe place for the apothecary to store her wares while she negotiated a new deal with the local merchants as well as safe lodgings, and a complimentary escort. To Isaac’s relief, the apothecary’s daughter Clarissa had quickly become quite taken with her escort and promptly forgot all about him. This allowed Soren and Isaac two full days to do whatever they pleased.  

For Isaac, those two days passed in a giddy blur.

Something had shifted within him after their scuffle with those pirates that he couldn’t quite explain. He was suddenly hypersensitive to Soren’s every move. Just a casual look from him was enough to make Isaac startle and his heart skip… In a good way.

A _very_ good way.

Isaac caught himself staring at Soren with increasing frequency the longer they were together. He barely remembered the shops they were browsing in the marketplace, or the taste of the wide assortment of local delicacies they sampled, but he hung on every word from Soren’s lips. A single cocky smile aimed his way was enough to make Isaac lightheaded. That blissful haze that hummed beneath his skin made the daytime more than pleasant.

Nights, on the other hand, were pure torture.

Soren slept soundly in the bed beside his, while Isaac was left to stare sleeplessly at the ceiling of the Inn with a mind full of pale lips, sharp red eyes, and a low melodic voice. Isaac had to concentrate on keeping his breathing steady and counting the knots of the wood on the ceiling in order to suppress the swell of emotions that kept trying to rush south.

He’d never been in this situation before. He’d certainly had moments where he had felt more aroused than usual, but never like this; never as a direct result of someone else’s… _influence,_ and certainly never with this kind of intensity. He made it through the first night through sheer willpower and possible exhaustion but… the second night…

The second night was downright _painful._

In hindsight, he never should have suggested purchasing an entire roast turkey for dinner. Watching Soren bite into the tender meat of a juicy drumstick was a sight that would likely linger within him for days.

Was it weird to get so turned on watching someone eat meat?

It certainly hadn’t helped that Soren was a fastidious eater and would diligently suck the grease off of each of his digits before sinking his teeth back into that savory flesh. It took every ounce of Isaac’s self control to tear his eyes away from the mage long enough for him to violently devour his own meal and take an extra long time fetching dessert, hoping in vain that Soren would be finished eating by the time he returned.

He hadn’t.

Those fingers and lips haunted him that second night. His dick certainly seemed to agree that there was something magic about the way Soren’s tongue flicked over pert lips if the way it inflated was any indication.

And wow, was that bulge between his legs _distracting_.

But what _exactly_ was he supposed to do about it? His usually silent and obedient penis had been twitching like a rebellious teen for two days and Isaac was frustrated. He desperately wanted to touch himself, grind against the mattress or do _something_ to get some sort of relief but how was he supposed to do that with Soren a mere three feet away? He might not be particularly vocal when he masturbated, but he certainly couldn’t stifle his heavy breathing. He’d be heard at such a close distance.

He groaned and unclenched his fists, sliding thick fingers over the cotton stretch between his thighs, and spared a wary look at Soren’s sleeping form.

Soren’s breathing was quiet and even. Surely he was in a deep sleep…

Perhaps if he was careful…

Even the pressure from a single finger helped relieve that restlessness in his gut. He let out a long, careful breath and pressed down on his partially swollen member with his palm, biting back a groan he hadn’t been expecting. He held himself there for a moment, pulse quick and ears honed in on Soren’s steady breaths.

Isaac drew in his own shaky breath and slipped his hand beneath his trousers. His hips jerked as he palmed his bare cock. It barely took any coaxing for his dick to swell and drip, tenting his blankets. He awkwardly shimmied out of his pants and pressed against the underside of his erection with small circular motions. Fingers soon curled around his flared base, and with bent knees and slow, deliberate inhales, he lightly squeezed his dick and _pumped_.

It was a delectable feeling. Bright, pleasurable shivers shooting up and down his thick shaft, pooling in his twitching ballsack and spreading out in soft waves throughout the rest of his body. Isaac’s mind was usually empty when he did this, but somehow he found himself unable to think of anything but Soren’s pearl pink lips glistening with a thin layer of fat, and that adorably sumptuous pink tongue winding around wet digits with a sinful finesse that had Isaac stifling a deep moan with his pillow.

Thoughts of deep red eyes like hot coals gazing up at him through thick black lashes flooded his mind with every twist of his wrist around the dribbling head of his cock. Isaac rolled his balls with his free hand and stroked himself just a little faster now that his hands were thoroughly slick. He could feel the heat pooling between his legs and his balls clenched whenever he touched himself _just right._

It felt _so good_ he could barely contain himself. He prayed Soren was a deep sleeper because there was no way he was going to be able to keep himself quiet if the pleasure kept building like it had been, and it wasn’t as though he had the willpower to stop. Not with that sweet, sweet rush coiling in his loins.

Isaac’s entire body shook from his growing desire to cum. His did his best to keep his hips stationary against the bed but the only thing he wanted in that moment was to thrust roughly into his hand like it was Soren’s greedy mouth sucking him like those greasy fingers and languishing his sensitive tip with long licks from that plump velvet tongue –

That was all it took for his dick to erupt with thick spurts in a sensational climax that ripped through his body like a strike from a thunder tome. He moaned, deep and long, hips bucking with every jerky pump as he rode shockwave after shockwave of that blissful ecstasy.

It felt like hours before his breathing steadied and his cock finally relaxed in the pool of semen on his abdomen. His orgasm still buzzed in his veins like a high he couldn’t come down from, but with every deep breath he could feel it soaking into his muscles and forcing them to relax.

Isaac finally dared to look towards the object of his adorations, noting with significant relief that Soren hadn’t moved and his breathing was still even.

A wistful longing blossomed in Isaac’s chest as he continued to watch Soren sleep, fingers coated in his release. He was suddenly hit with the urge to crawl out of his own bed and into Soren’s, curl around the beautiful mage and fall asleep with his face buried in Soren’s hair.

It was in that moment Isaac realized with an odd mix of excitement and awe that he truly _wanted_ Soren. Everything from his small cheeky smiles, to his sharp but well-intended words, his exhilarating but calming presence, his warm body, slim waist and silky hair –

Just… everything.

Isaac gazed for a long time at Soren’s sleeping figure delicately outlined by moonlight and barely moving.

His mind circled around a thought he’d never dared to broach, not with another person. Never with someone he considered so dear.

If ever he thought to deny his feelings before, it would be impossible now.

Soundlessly, he mouthed the words he thought he’d never say, testing them. They felt foreign, but easy on his tongue and so real, so _right_ , they left him breathless.

Isaac knew in that moment, he had fallen in love.

\-----

The blade whizzed past Isaac’s ear as he clumsily dodged and dropped his fighting stance, ready to parry the next strike. The blade twisted mid-slice and before Isaac could so much as curse it shot towards him with disgusting speed. His own blade was close enough to block the blow with one hand, but the sword reverberated from lack of proper support. He tried to steady it, to push his opponent’s blade back with enough force to put some distance between them so he could regain his footing but his attempt was in vain. He was kicked solidly in the stomach, sending him reeling backwards into the sand, disarmed.

He coughed a few times, squinting up at the summer sky. The edge of his opponent’s sword slid into view, aimed at his neck, and he knew he had lost.

“Alright that’s enough. Get up.” Stefan thrust his blade into the sand, and offered Isaac a hand to help him to his feet. Isaac took it, stood, and rubbed his face in frustration before attempting to retrieve his sword from where it had landed.

Stefan stared at him for a moment.

“What’s eatin’ you, kid?” He asked. Isaac looked at him blankly.

“…What do you mean?” He wiped the edge of his blade with his tunic. Stefan let out a small puff of irritation.

“You know full well what I mean. You haven’t been able to land a single hit on me since you got back from Cambria two weeks ago.” Stefan said, turning his son to face him and furrowing his brow at Isaac’s troubled expression. “What’s wrong?” Isaac let out a frustrated sigh and mussed his hair.

“It’s… nothing. I’ve uh, just got something on my mind lately.” He said without meeting Stefan’s skeptical gaze.

“Well the way you’ve been mooning about with your head in the clouds I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t some _thing_ but some _one_ that’s on your mind _._ ” Isaac visible tensed at his step father’s teasing, and to his horror, Stefan noticed. “…you’re joking.” Stefan said, his grin spreading across his face as quickly as Isaac’s cheeks flushed. He laughed and slapped him on the back, “Way to go, kid! I didn’t think you had it in you! He might be a bitter little thing, but Soren’s a good match for you.”

Isaac’s head whipped around so fast he nearly toppled over.

“W-who said anything about Soren?!” He tried to deflect the implication, but his voice was a little too high pitched to be convincing if the look Stefan fixed him with was anything to go by. “…is it that obvious?” Isaac asked quietly, “I mean, I didn’t even realize it myself until recently.”

“You’re about as subtle as a brick.” Stefan asked with a taunting tilt to his head and a small smirk. Isaac rubbed the back of his neck; a sheepish gesture. “I take it he doesn’t know?”

“Of course not,” Isaac sheathed his blade, “And he probably never will.”

“…You’re not going to tell him…?” Stefan sounded surprised.

“And screw up what I have now? No thanks.” Isaac grumbled, fiddling with the hilt of his sword. Soren still hadn’t decided on whether or not to permit Isaac to simply travel with him. Goddess knows he’d never allow Isaac to accompany him if Soren knew how he felt. Stefan’s brow furrowed.

“Why do you think you’ll screw it up?” He asked, “Soren might be harsh and cynical, but he’s not petty.” Isaac released a despondent sigh. He slipped his headband off his head and wiped away the sweat it hadn’t managed to catch.

“I know that… I do, it’s just,” He twisted the fabric between his fingers, wrestling his jumbled thoughts into words, “I’ve been lucky enough to meet a half-dragon like me… probably the only other half-dragon in Tellius. Do you know how crazy that is?” He paused for a moment, throat tighter than he had expected, “It’s already something like a miracle. What are the chances he’d accept the way I feel about him? There’s no way I’d get that lucky.” Isaac listlessly traced circles in the sand with his sandal. Stefan considered him carefully, as if unsure of what to say.

“You never know, he could be open to it. I think you two get along really well as it is.” Stefan seemed optimistic; Isaac wasn’t sure why. Getting along was hardly enough to suspect that the seeds of a romantic relationship had been sown.

“Yeah, as _friends_.” He kicked the sand bitterly into the air, “And I don’t even know if he considers us _that._ ”

Stefan sighed and crossed his arms. When he spoke next, it was with and uncharacteristically serious tone.

“I’ve known Soren for a _very_ long time,” He began, each word deliberate, “and in that time he’s only opened up to a handful of people and never as quickly as he opened up to you.” Isaac glanced at him with the faintest glimmer of hope, “You’re not the first to pursue him, but you’re the only one he’s responded to since…” He trailed off and shook his head, “Look, he really likes you, and maybe it’s romantic, maybe not. But you’ll never know for sure unless you talk to him.” Stefan squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Give it a shot, Isaac. He might surprise you.”

Isaac fumbled with the knot of his headband for a while, decidedly avoiding that probing stare of his step father. He carefully retied the cloth around his forehead, then flicked an uncertain glance at Stefan.

 “…You really think he’d be ok with it?” He asked quietly.

“You’ll have to confess to find out.” Stefan replied with a hearty slap on Isaac’s back and a good-natured laugh.

Isaac swore quietly under his breath.

\-----

Isaac mulled over Stefan’s words for an entire week without much in the way of progress. While he _had_ finally decided to try to gauge Soren’s interest in a possible relationship, he hadn’t been able to actually _say_ anything to him. He had made several attempts to broach the topic, but every time Soren looked at him the words died in his throat and he was back to square one.

In hindsight, it was probably a good thing. It wasn’t as though he had a plan as to what he was going to say had he not managed to freeze up with every attempt. Whatever words would have tumbled from his mouth would certainly have been ineloquent and blunt enough to get him in trouble.

After a half dozen such failed attempts Isaac had asked his mother for advice. She was convinced that it was best not to express his feelings directly with words, but to ask Soren outright on a date and go from there. Isaac wasn’t sure how that was any easier, until she explained that he didn’t have to call it a date. He could just ask Soren to accompany him somewhere and then do his best to make the outing date-like.

But what exactly constituted a date? He already spent a good deal of time with Soren doing all manner of things. Were those outings not considered dates? Or were they? Was there some secret requirement that had to be filled first? A list of things he had to do during the outing for it to be a date, perhaps? At what point would things change from a platonic meeting to a romantic one?

Finally frustrated with his hesitation, his mother had kicked him out of the house that morning with instructions to ask Soren to attend the midsummer festival with him and to stop pestering her with stupid problems. Still too nervous to confront Soren directly, he instead wandered to the riverbank, hoping that a quick dip would clear his head.

He untied the belt that held his tunic in place and let it fall to the ground, his cotton pants and sandals soon to follow, leaving him almost completely naked. He didn’t bother testing the water, but instead took running jump and sank beneath the water with an enormous splash.

He broke the surface for air a few moments later, letting the cool water ease away the tension in his muscles. He floated like that for a while, drifting slightly in the faint current, idly thinking about possible ways to ask Soren to attend the festival together and trying to muster the nerve to actually do it.

“…Isaac?” A familiar voice startled him and for a second he forgot how to float and flailed around in the water awkwardly trying to right himself. He coughed up some of the water he inhaled and looked at the source of the voice on the opposite side of the river.

“S-Soren?” Isaac sputtered, “What are you doing here?” He suddenly felt extremely aware of his state of undress what with Soren’s gaze fixed curiously on him from his seat on the grassy riverbank.

“Well I _was_ fishing until you came along.” Soren said with a smirk, gesturing to the pole in his hand. “But I think you succeeded in scaring away all the fish.”

“Oh,” Isaac rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh, sorry about that.” Soren stuck the pole into the dirt and stood up.

“It’s alright,” He brushed the dust off his pants, “I wasn’t catching anything anyway.”

“I uh… didn’t know you fished.” Isaac bit the inside of his cheek. What kind of line was that? Just when did he lose his ability to face Soren and talk _normally_?

“I don’t usually… but I’m out of meat and the market was closed today for the festival, so I thought I’d give it a try. Unsuccessfully.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

Isaac licked his lips. This was it. This was his shot to ask Soren to go to the festival with him. All he had to do was open his mouth and _ask._ He could do this.

“I uh,” He swallowed, “I was hot.” He cursed himself internally. That was _not_ what he meant to say, and if the look on Soren’s face was any indication, he knew as much too.

“…I can see that.” Soren said, face deadpanned but tinged with amusement. Isaac felt his whole body flush from embarrassment beneath Soren’s pointed stare. “But what I meant was, why aren’t you at the festival? It seems like something you’d enjoy.” Isaac chuckled nervously.

“Not really. I usually just go for the food.” He said. Soren snorted.

“Of course you do, what was I thinking?” Soren gave him a fond smile and Isaac felt his knees buckle under the weight of it.

He had to do something about this… this _crush_ of his soon. He couldn’t go through life getting weak in the knees every time Soren so much as looked at him. How did normal people deal with this kind of thing on a daily basis? Did it ever go away?

Did he want it to?

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and opened his mouth to speak.

Whatever he was about to say came out as a mangled squeal instead as he gawked at Soren slowly peeling off layers of his robes.

“…what are you doing?” He finally managed to choke out as Soren rid himself of his shirt.

“I thought I’d join you.” He replied simply, and hesitated in setting his shirt down by his sandals. “Do you mind?”

Isaac shook his head a little too enthusiastically. He didn’t mind. He didn’t mind one bit. If Soren wanted to strip down to his underclothes and swim in the river, that was fine by Isaac. More than fine, in fact. He encouraged it.

“Good,” Soren said, dipping his toes into the water.

Isaac watched him for a few minutes slowly easing each limb into the river at a painstaking pace.

The silence aggravated his nerves.

“So…” He started awkwardly, “Are you planning to go to the festival at all?”

“Hmm… I wasn’t going to, but it sounds like there will be a lot of food and I doubt I’ll be able to catch any fish today.” Soren said.

“Then…” Isaac swallowed hard, “Do you… maybe want to go together?” Soren looked up at him.

“To the festival?” He asked. Isaac nodded in response. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

Isaac gaped at him.

Did he say yes?

He definitely said yes.

Isaac felt an exhilarating flush of happiness blossom in his chest and it was all he could do to keep from grinning like an idiot.

He said _yes_.

“I suppose we can stay here for a while, then head to town before sundown.” Soren continued.

“That’s if you ever manage to get _in_ the water…” Isaac snorted, too happy to pay attention to what he was saying. Soren flicked some water his general direction.

“I’ll get in when I’m good and ready.” He replied.

“Oh come on, it’s not even cold.” Isaac insisted. Soren narrowed his eyes at him, but the smirk on lips didn’t falter, nor did his pace quicken.

“Quiet you.” He said, easing in another inch. The nervous energy he had felt lessened with each playful exchange.

“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll hurry it up for you.” He sank down and moved his arm back and just beneath the water; a move that threatened war of the wettest kind.

“…don’t you dare.” Soren growled, most of the mirth gone from his face. Isaac’s grin widened and he drew his arm back further, “Isaac, I’m warning you –” But it was too late.

Isaac swept his arm across the surface of the water sending an impressive wave of water hurtling towards Soren who barely managed to yelp before he was thoroughly soaked.

Isaac’s glee was short-lived.

Soren stood motionless for a long moment, sopping wet bangs covering most of his face.

A malicious smile stretched across his cheeks followed by a quiet, muttered incantation and suddenly…

…suddenly Isaac regretted ever splashing Soren, because that was one hell of a huge tidal wave and he wasn’t the strongest swimmer.

\-----

The midsummer festival fell into full swing once the sun was down. While the daytime had been full of sporting events and games ranging from archery to knucklebones, street performers and merchants pushing their wares, the evening was centered around a great feast with smaller performances from traveling magicians and minstrels. The air was thick with the scent of spices and the upbeat jig on dueling violins and pennywhistles while the citizens of Arcadia lost themselves to the thrill of the country dance. The only light came from the hundreds of paper lanterns scattered about the town square, and the bonfire at the heart of the celebration; a makeshift altar to the goddess.

Of course, the food stands were mostly what drew Isaac and Soren’s attention. After an afternoon of swimming followed by some failed attempts at spear fishing, both men were starving and Isaac had declared it his mission to eat something from every single stall much to Soren’s chagrin.

“You could have killed me you know.” Isaac grumbled biting into his second cob of fire roasted corn.

“Don’t be childish. It was just a little water.” Soren scoffed and popped another cherry in his mouth.

“Says the guy who takes twenty minutes just to _get in the water_.” Isaac smeared some melted butter on Soren’s cheek with his thumb and laughed. Soren rubbed at it, then retaliated by spitting a cherry pit at him.

“I do things at my own pace.” He said indignantly. He fell slightly behind Isaac trying to avoid a large group of people walking by them. A hand curled around his wrist and tugged him forward.

“Your pace is too slow.” Isaac said, flicking his eyes towards their hands, then back to Soren’s slightly confused face.

“You’re just reckless.” His eyes drifted to Isaac’s hand around his wrist but he didn’t pull himself free.

“Don’t call me – ooohh wow, Soren, look! They have smoked ham hocks!”

“…That is your third serving of meat… haven’t you had enough?”

“Yeah but,” He said, cheeks stuffed with corn, “The festival’s only once a year. Gotta eat while I can.” He turned to the seller and held up one finger, “One please.”  

“At least get some drinks. I’ll be over there.” Soren pressed a piece of gold into Isaac’s palm and walked towards the outskirt of the square where the crowd was thinnest. Isaac stared after him and sighed at the coin in his hand. He should probably be grateful that Soren hadn’t realized Isaac’s insatiable appetite was linked to his nerves rather than a desire to eat until he burst.

What he really needed was something to ease his nervous tension. He’d been fine earlier since he could distract himself with swimming and fishing, but at the festival the only thing he could do was eat, and his stomach was nearing its limit.

While engrossed by his thoughts, he somehow managed to order the drinks, discard his corn cob and pay the merchant. Ham hock held between his teeth and a bottle in each hand, He struggled through the crowd, and collapsed beside Soren.

“You survived.” Soren said, plucking one of the clear bottles out of Isaac’s hand so he could free his mouth.

“Yeah, thanks for the help.” Isaac said with a snort. He popped the cork off his bottle, took a hefty swig and choked.

That was definitely alcohol. And not just any alcohol, this was Arcadian Clear – the strongest liquor one could find in the desert.

Isaac hadn’t _intended_ to buy alcohol. He didn’t even like alcohol. He had meant to purchase something like sweet tea or juice. He rarely drank so his tolerance was on the low side and there was no way he could trust his drunk self around Soren. He’d probably do something stupid like confess his feelings…

…Then again, it might not be a bad idea. It wasn’t like he was having any luck sober. And, he reasoned, if Soren reacted badly he could always blame it on the liquor and still manage to be his friend.

Ok, so it definitely wasn’t a _great_ plan, but it was a plan. He didn’t have to be very drunk either, just tipsy. A few sips then, just until he felt a light buzz and then… well, he’d figure it out from there.

“It’s sweet.” Soren said wiping his lip with his thumb. He’d drunk the entire bottle while Isaac was lost in his head.

He stared at Soren who blinked back at him, “…what is it?”

It started with a snort, then a snicker, and within seconds Isaac was full-blown laughing. Soren continued to stare at him, perplexed.

Isaac wasn’t even sure what he was laughing at, the fact that Soren just downed an entire bottle of Arcadian Clear without batting an eyelash, or the fact that his cheeks were the most adorable shade of pink. Neither was very funny, he knew that, but the laughter kept coming and Soren’s lips quirked upwards without his consent. Before either of them realized it, he was quietly laughing too.

Isaac felt lightheaded and the good kind of dizzy. He wasn’t drunk, he know that, but still the music felt louder, and the sounds of the crowd laughing and whooping as they danced was invigorating and contagious. That troublesome nervous energy hummed beneath the surface but suddenly Isaac found it exhilarating. Isaac felt just the slightest bit more confident just by making Soren laugh by accident, and that was enough to take Soren by the hand and pull him to his feet.

“Dance with me.” He said, both of Soren’s hands in his own.

“Dance with…? Oh no. No. I don’t dance.” Soren pulled back weakly, but Isaac held fast.

“It’s a country dance, not a waltz. You’ll be fine.” He encouraged. Soren looked skeptical. “It’ll be fun.” He adds.

“I bet you don’t even like dancing.” Soren smirked.

“I’d like dancing with you.” Isaac felt a surge of confidence at the sight of Soren’s flushed cheeks. “C’mon, I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t know, I –” Soren starts.

“One dance. And if you hate it we’ll stop.” Isaac was still holding both of Soren’s hands and Soren stared at them, chewing on his lower lip.

“Alright,” He was hesitant, but willing, “One dance.”

Isaac squeezed Soren’s hand and smiled wide.

“One dance.” He repeated, and pulled Soren into position at the end of a line of dancers.

Soren learned the steps quickly, and before they knew it one dance became two, two became three, and three became four. By the fifth dance they had stopped counting, content to let the playful jig of the fiddles guide their feet as they spun and clapped and laughed in tandem. They weren’t the most elegant dancers, and they were barely in sync with the rest, but neither could bring themselves to care.

Most of the villagers were probably drunk anyway. Isaac certainly felt like it.

Forward, back, spin, then back and forward once more. Each step was light, chaste and flirtatious.

He felt breathless. Soren’s smile was shy but wide enough to reach his eyes and it squeezed Isaac’s heart tight enough to burst. Their gazes rarely strayed from each other even with the occasional toe stomp or missed step. Each touch felt loose, easy, like a pleasant buzz beneath the skin.

Isaac wondered if he was actually drunk.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. It felt so good, their movements synchronized and fluid. His heartbeat was so intense it felt like it was trying to drown out the sound of the drums, each pulse reverberating through his body and Isaac wondered if Soren could feel it too.

It almost came as a shock when the last song ended and nothing followed. The rest of the villagers dispersed, leaving the dance area for food and drink, but Soren and Isaac remained where they stood; their fingers tangled together, chests heaving from exertion, eyes locked and pulses racing.

Isaac softly laughed between attempts to catch his breath, and Soren responded with a sweet airy smile Isaac didn’t know he could make.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. His pulse showed no signs of slowing down and his breathing was growing heavier the longer he stared into Soren’s eyes.

Goddess, he felt like he was drowning in the best way.

Slowly, he leaned down and rested his forehead against Soren’s brand, eyes glancing down as glossy pink lips.

A question.

He paused when their noses bumped and Soren inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away. It was leap of faith, his hands trembling and sliding around Soren’s waist, breaths intermingling...

…And suddenly their lips met.

It was everything Isaac wanted and yet nothing like he expected. Velvet soft, plump and wet from Soren’s tongue; delicious shocks spread across his lips where they touched. It was too much and at the same time not enough.

He pulled Soren closer, close enough for their chests and hips to share the same heat and pulse. He dragged a single finger up Soren’s spine and was gifted a pleasured gasp in return. He held him tight, desperate for another kiss but unable to move.

Then Soren’s hands were on his cheeks, pulling him down and all he could taste was intoxicating sweetness leaching into his mouth like a violent poison he never wanted to be free of. Soren’s tongue curled around his own, languidly rolling, slick and needy.

That was all it took for Isaac to feel the heat pool in his groin. He broke the kiss just long enough to suck in a greedy breath before Soren pulled him back down for another. He drew the flat of his tongue across Soren’s lip, then pulled it with his teeth when Soren let out an impassioned growl.

Isaac’s hands began to roam, sliding up and down Soren’s back, making the mage squirm with need against him. They rocked their hips against each other and that first jolt of pleasure had Isaac groaning into Soren’s mouth and digging his fingers into the plush of his ass and the bone of his hips.

They kissed again and again; sloppy, wet and _hungry_.

Isaac swore that his dick must be connected to his tongue because when Soren sucked he felt like cumming without touching himself. It was intense and _goddess_ he was close and Soren smelled so, so, _so_ good; he lifted him slightly in an attempt at more contact only to feel a familiar hardness slide against his own.

Soren gasped and pulled back just enough to get some air, obviously not expecting the sudden stimulation to his lower regions. Isaac couldn’t help the elated grin that spread across his face.

Soren was actually _responding_ to him.

The thought left him high.

He wrapped on arm tightly around Soren and brought the other to his flushed cheek. A tender touch; tentative and warm, heart so full it felt like bursting.

This was it.

This was his moment. He could declare his feelings now and surely the response would be positive. Soren had responded to him, enthusiastically at that. They felt the same way, he knew it.

He tilted Soren’s chin up so their eyes would meet. Thick black lashes fluttered and lusty scarlet eyes met blue.

This was real.

He could have this.

He could have Soren.

His lips parted and the words fell like spring raindrops, quiet, sure and sweet.

“I love you.” He whispered.

Red eyes grew wide.

Soren’s hands were on his chest and with an unexpected show of strength, Isaac was pushed backwards. He stumbled, confused, then looked at Soren.

His heart sank.

Soren looked _terrified._ There was no smile on his lips, no mirth in his eyes, and his body trembled with something akin to fear.

Cold dread pooled in his stomach. When Isaac reached for him, Soren drew back like he’d burn if they touched.

“Soren, what’s –” Isaac tried to ask, but his voice stopped working mid-sentence.

He was terribly pale, convulsing like he’d seen a ghost though his eyes never left Isaac’s face.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked, stepping backwards and shaking his head slowly.

“Soren…?” Isaac tried to reach out to him again. He wanted to hold him. He wanted to tell him everything was ok. He wanted –

“I’m so sorry.” And Soren broke into a run.

“SOREN?! SOREN, WAIT!” Isaac called after him, tried to give chase...

...but his feet wouldn’t move.

And Soren was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **sweats**


	6. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re back.  
> Only three chapters left… and then I finally get to write the good stuff.

Soren ran.

He heard Isaac call his name, but he didn’t look back. His legs felt numb and his vision was blurred from tears, but no amount of stumbling or winding village streets could slow him down.

Sobs wracked his body as he struggled to breathe. He could barely focus on where he was going but he couldn’t stop running.

How many times had he traversed this route? How many years had it been?

Ninety three, ninety four, ninety five…

He had to get away, away, away…

Away from the festival, away from feelings he never asked for…

…Away from Isaac.

His feet hit the forest floor and carried him along a hidden path, passed the boundaries of his hundred year old barrier spells to the base of a small grassy hill. Wobbling legs buckled beneath him, and for a moment he thought he wouldn’t be able to muster the strength to climb.

But…

He wanted to see Ike.

A silent cry of frustration forced him to his feet and he staggered up the hill, unbalanced and uneasy.

“Ike…” He whispered, his gaze locked on the lonely silver Aspen, the heart of the entire forest – the place where Soren buried his own heart almost a hundred years ago.

The place where he buried Ike.

With trembling limbs he reached out, clutched at the trunk and wept.

Soren felt sick. He’d been a willing participant in an act of adultery. He let himself be kissed, he let himself be held, and worst of all…

He had _wanted_ more.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. He recoiled away from the tree, and retched violently all over the grass, heaving and shaking.

“I’m sorry…” he croaked. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stem his tears.

It had been months since he’d been able to see anything clearly; months since he’d been able to identify anyone by anything beyond their voice.

Why did _his face_ have to be the first thing he saw?

He had been drowning in that kiss, so lost in that warm embrace that he lost all sense of time. He forgot about his blurry eyesight, he forgot who he was with; nothing had mattered but the way he felt in that moment. And when he pulled away and saw Ike’s face smiling back at him, it was as if the last hundred years or isolation had been nothing but a lie.

But the face staring back at him with adoration didn’t belong to Ike.

It belonged to Isaac..

 “I’m sorry _…_ I’m sorry, I – ” Soren dug his nails into the smooth bark and cried harder.

It was cruel. Isaac smiled Ike’s smile, looked at him with Ike’s eyes, whispered words of love with Ike’s lips in a voice he was finally able to place. For months Soren had written off the small similarities as mere coincidences; after all, he’d traveled the world for years. It wasn’t the first time someone had bared a faint likeness.

But this was different. Isaac was _too_ similar to how Ike was in his teens. It felt like Soren was looking at a ghost – a manifestation of everything he lost and could never have again.

Why did they have to be so alike?

He pulled back and scrubbed his eyes raw with his sleeve. He blinked slowly, vision slowly clearing though his tears refused to stop.

Soren stared at the base of the tree, counting each mark – carefully cut – one at a time. He sniffed and fumbled with a small, sharp rock and slowly carved in ten more marks. One for each of the years that had passed since he had last visited.

Ninety six, ninety seven, ninety eight…

Ninety nine.

He paused and touched the ninety-ninth mark.

This year marked the final year of his promise to Ike; the year Ike agreed Soren could finally join him if he still hadn’t found a new reason to live; the year Soren had been desperately waiting for in the hopes that perhaps Ike would procure a miracle, goddess be damned, and return to Soren’s side like he said he would.

A cold wave of sorrow crashed over him and the flood of tears began anew as he withdrew his fingers.

Of course, that was impossible. Even a godslayer couldn’t return from the dead. Soren had always been doomed a thousand years of loneliness, his only solace in that slim chance that one day he’d be able to see Ike again… and that he’d be forgiven even if it meant dying to do so.

But how could Soren possibly face him after what he’d done? He didn’t deserve to see Ike again, even by the foolishness of death. He had shattered ninety-nine years of promises with a single moment of weakness, one _touch_ from Isaac and he crumbled like the integrity of his worthless feelings.

He hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in them; apologies whispered over and over, his body quivering as he cried.

Soren didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next time he looked up it was morning.

And it was time to go.

\-----

Isaac was exhausted.

He’d spent the entire night combing the town looking for Soren to no avail. No one at the festival had seen where he’d gone, and Isaac was running out of places to check. He’d looked all over town, in the back alleys, the river beds, the forest edge; he’d even checked Soren’s house three times before deciding he should just wait there in case Soren came back.

Though, for all he knew, Soren might not even be in the village at all.

Isaac swallowed that feeling of panic crawling up his throat. He lay motionless on the rug by the fireplace, staring up at the ceiling and focusing all his energy on just remembering to _breathe_.

Certainly a challenge for one with a broken heart.

Footsteps at the front door had Isaac sitting bolt upright and his heart pounding in anticipation. What felt like minutes was only seconds before the door swung open and Soren stepped inside.

Isaac was on his feet and across the room, pulling Soren into his arms before he could close the door.

“I-Isaac?!” Soren stammered. “Wha-? What are you…?”

“Where have you _been?!”_ Isaac choked out, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the tears of relief from falling. “I looked everywhere and I thought you’d… I thought you’d _left_.” His voice cracked as he tightened his hold on Soren.

“…Isaac… let me go.” Soren whispered. As if shaken from a trance, Isaac pulled back, hands still gripping Soren’s shoulders.

“O-oh. Right.” He bit back his tears and gave a wobbly smile, “Sorry, I’m just… glad to see you’re safe. You left so suddenly last night... I was worried.” Soren refused to meet his gaze. 

“You needn’t have been. As you can see, I’m fine.” He said. Isaac wondered if that were true. Soren’s eyes were swollen, and his skin was pale and drawn. If anything, he looked ill.

“Are you sure?” He asked, brushing a thumb against a tear stained cheek. Soren flinched at the contact, and backed away from him, still refusing to meet his gaze. He didn’t respond, simply sidestepped Isaac and began fumbling around the kitchen. Isaac watched him for a few curious moments, completely at a loss for words.

Soren continued to ignore him, clumsily setting out items on the countertop and digging around in cupboards. It took a little while, but slowly, Isaac realized that Soren was assembling items for traveling.

Soren was preparing to _leave._ If he left now, there was a damn good chance Isaac would never see him again.

A life without Soren wasn’t something Isaac wanted to think about.

The panic from earlier came back with a vengeance. Still, he remained rooted in his position unable to swallow the lumps of emotions in his throat.

 “…Soren?” Isaac’s voice sounded weak and strained, and perhaps it was too quiet because Soren didn’t reply. He continued to gather foodstuffs and shove them into a leather rucksack. “Soren.” Isaac spoke a bit more firmly. Still, the mage refused to acknowledge him. Isaac’s feet finally let him cross the room. He grabbed Soren’s wrist and spun him around so they were standing face to face.

“ _What?_ ” Soren hissed. He stared defiantly back at Isaac, his glare wavering with… something akin to fear.

“What are you doing?” He asked, as calmly as he could given the quickening of his pulse and the tightness in his throat. Soren wrenched his hand from Isaac’s grip and resumed packing.

“What’s it look like?” He grumbled.

Isaac hesitated. Saying the words would only make them feel more real, but he took a deep breath and said them anyway.

“…Are you leaving?” Isaac clenched his fingers into fists to keep them from trembling. Soren paused, but didn’t turn around.

“I am.” Soren said.

Isaac’s heart sank at Soren’s confirmation.

“…Is it because of me?” Isaac asked, voice in a near whisper. He caught glimpse of Soren peering at him from over his shoulder, a face full of fear, hurt, but devoid of anger.

“I don’t know why this comes as a surprise.” Soren mumbled, “I was only planning on staying until my eyes healed, and now they have.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Isaac said, “Are you really leaving because of your eyes? Or are you leaving because of yesterday –” Soren whirled around to face him with a rare sort of desperate fury.

“What do you want me to say, Isaac?!” He shouted, “That I’m leaving because I can’t stand the sight of you?! Or that the thought of having your company day in and day out makes me ill?! Because I can say all that and more with certainty.” The words stung enough to make Isaac flinch, but he grit his teeth and matched Soren’s gaze.

“That’s a lie.” Isaac growled, raw anger peeking through the layers of hurt in his chest. Soren scoffed at him and turned away.

“How would you know?” He muttered.

“Because if it were true you would have said something sooner!” Isaac’s voice rose in volume like the crescendo of a terrible song, “If it were true you wouldn’t have told me anything about yourself and you wouldn’t have given me this!” He gestured to the sword at his hip.

“Don’t speak as if you know me.” Soren spat back, eyes narrowed and wary.

“I do know you!” Isaac insisted, taking a step forward.

“You don’t!” Soren roared at him, backing up against the kitchen counter and knocking a pack of jerky onto the floor.

“I do!” Isaac pinned Soren beneath the weight of his furious glare, “I know you better than anyone! I mean… we’ve been together since the day you returned to Arcadia. And every day… every day since then I’ve spent with you.”

Soren averted his gaze and gripped the edge of the counter.

“What does that matter…?” He whispered, “It’s not even a year out of the thousand more you have to live. You’ll forget soon enough.”

Something stirred within Isaac. Soren’s rare display of open hostility, his panicked expression… could it be that Isaac wasn’t the cause of Soren’s outburst, but perhaps just the one who brought old emotions to the surface?

He furrowed his brows.

“Is that what happened to you?” He asked. Soren’s eyes widened and his face paled. “Is that what this is about? Did you forget someone? Or… were you forgotten?”

Soren’s breathing quickened, and he crumbled to the floor, burying his face in his arms.

“…Get out.” He commanded weakly. His shoulders shook lightly.

Isaac had been right. Soren’s outburst wasn’t about the events of the night before – not entirely, at least. He had been a trigger, not the source.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if the thought was comforting or not.

He crouched down in front of Soren, trying to get a look at his face.

“…I won’t.” He said quietly.

“Isaac, _please…”_ Soren pleaded.

“Soren,” Isaac swallowed and chose his words carefully, “Tell me… why are you leaving?”

“Because I can’t stay here!” Soren’s outburst caught him by surprise, “How can I face him now? The only thing he asked of me was to wait, and I couldn’t even do that!” His voice broke with the appearance of his tears, “What else am I supposed to do…?”

In that moment, through the haze of hurt and confusion and anger, Isaac had a realization. All of the tiny fragments of Soren’s past that he had managed to catch glimpses of over the last six months, meaningless in isolation, finally snapped together.

A home clearly built for two; a Beorc buried within a village of Brandeds…

Suddenly he understood.

“I don’t know,” Isaac felt the threat of his own tears looming closer as he spoke, “But if you leave, you’ll never know either.”

“I can’t _stay_ here, Isaac. I can’t. I _can’t!_ I don’t deserve to, I –” Isaac pulled him into a comforting embrace, and rested his chin on Soren’s head.

“You can,” Isaac whispered, letting hot tears roll down his cheeks, “If you leave now, you’ll never be able to make up for whatever it is you think you did.” Soren trembled in his arms. He tried to pull away but quickly gave up. He sobbed loudly into Isaac’s chest, fingers tightly gripping his tunic. “You’re the smartest person I know. You can figure this out.” He choked out. “I know you can.”

Isaac rubbed small circles into the small of Soren’s back, both heartbroken and crying, but both desperate for the sort of comfort only the other could provide.

“So stay.” Isaac held him tighter.

\-----

Deserts were quiet places, and the Desert of Death was no exception. The early mornings on the outskirts of Arcadia were especially quiet as the general populace and local wildlife were typically inactive.

It used to be Soren’s favorite time of day; the silence allowing him to get a head start on the day’s work. But the hushed air around him felt deafening in the wake of the turmoil his heart had just been subject to. It was difficult to feel at peace when his own thoughts rang so loudly in his head that he feared he may actually be speaking them aloud.

He was tempted to sleep through these mornings but found himself unable to do so regardless of how tired he felt. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling made him feel even more miserable than usual, so he found himself rolling out of bed and out of the house each morning at dawn.

Walking, he found, allowed him to partially quell the thoughts that haunted him, instead focusing on the ground ahead of him and counting his steps as a means of distraction. No matter which direction he started in however, he always ended up at the edge of the forest.

Soren longed to enter, to walk that long twisting path to the great silver aspen at its heart, but every time he tried he fell just short of the entrance. For hours he’d stand at the edge, staring into the deep green depths of the wood, before slowly turning around and walking home.

As the villagers woke during his return walk, Soren found it far more difficult to distract himself. His mind would wander, flitting between memories of Ike, then more about Isaac, promptly followed by sharp pangs of guilt that he didn’t know how to reconcile.

Part of him was itching to pack his things and leave; pretend that night never happened, pretend he’d never met Isaac and just continue on as he had before they’d met… but the rational part of him knew that was impossible. He’d never be able to pretend it didn’t happen. He had to live with his choices, he had to face them.

But Soren was scared.

He and Ike had been running from everything since the end of the second war. From their home, their family, their country, their responsibilities and everything that came with it. Even when war found them over and over again, they kept running, never truly finding peace until they settled in Arcadia.

He was tired of running, but he was so, so scared to stop.

Soren knew deep down that Ike would have wanted him to move forward. Wasn’t that why he had deliberately asked Soren to keep living after he’d gone? Yet Soren had turned that promise into a test of endurance, a way to prove to Ike that Soren would love him and no one else for the rest of his life.

Soren was so scared of being wrong.

He was scared of the way Isaac made him feel.

Feeling decidedly miserable, he began his climb up the hill to his house. Perhaps a full stomach would help him sort through his thoughts a little better.

He’d barely touched the handle when the front door of his house swung open and a blur of blue and gold hurtled towards him, knocking him clear off his feet and into the sand.

“Soren!” He’d barely had a second to catch his breath before the blur started talking to him in a familiar excited tone.

“…Nils?!” Soren gasped, “What are you doing here?” Nils grinned cheekily from his position on Soren’s chest.

“We’re on our way to Pherae! I wanted to stop here and see you and Isaac and say thank you and –” Nils rambled.

“…We? Nils, who…?” Soren barely got the question out of his mouth before another familiar figure popped into view.

“Ah, Soren! Long time no see. Nils, let the poor guy up.” The man said. Soren stared at him in disbelief.

“…Nasir…!?” He said. Nils climbed off of him, and offered a hand to help Soren stand.

“You two know each other?” Nils asked, smiling even wider. Soren brushed the sand from his robes, eyes flicking between the two dragons.

“Indeed we do. Though I must say, you look a little different. How long has it been? Fifty years? A hundred?” Nasir tapped his chin in thought.

“Longer. But what are _you_ doing here?” Soren sputtered. Nasir threw an arm around Nil’s shoulder and grinned.

“What does it look like? I’m accompanying my cute little grandson on his visit to my cute little granddaughter.”

“…You’re joking.”

“He’s not,” Nils eyes were warm as he spoke, “Ohhh, Soren you’ll never believe it, but argh! Where’s Isaac? I want to tell you both!”

“…He’s… likely out making his rounds.” Soren said, trying to keep his voice as steady as he could. Nasir’s brow furrowed at Soren’s change of expression, but Nils was far too excited to notice.

“Ahh! Of course! You’re not going anywhere right?” Soren shook his head, “Ok, great! We’ll go find him and then maybe the five of us can have dinner together.”

“Five of us?” Soren asked. Nasir gestured towards the house.

“You have one more visitor.” He managed to say quietly before Nils dragged him down the hill.

Soren stood in stunned silence for a few moments on his own doorstep before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low lights, but once they had, he found yet another familiar face smiling gently back at him.

Except this familiar face wasn’t quite so welcome.

“You are honestly the last person I wanted to see sitting at my kitchen table, Kurthnaga.” Soren groaned. Kurthnaga’s smile didn’t falter. He simply tilted his head, picked up a steaming clay mug and placed it in front of the seat closest to Soren.

“Hello to you too, Soren. And you should be glad it’s me. Almedha wanted to come instead.” Kurthnaga said. Soren grimaced, but took sat down at the table across from the young dragon king.

“How very fortunate.” He said dryly, taking a sip of his tea. Kurthnaga chuckled and delicately split open a muffin – a gift, Soren surmised, since he didn’t remember purchasing them.

They’d really only spoken on three previous occasions, so to be having a private conversation with Kurthnaga in the comfort of his own home felt a bit surreal. He took casual note of  Kurthnaga’s visible growth; a slightly more angled chin, hair down to his shoulders and a woven silver circlet emphasizing the mark on his forehead. Soren thought for a moment that they might actually look to be the same age, despite the hundreds of years between them.

“Mm,” Kurthnaga hummed as he spread a generous portion of butter, “It’s just as well she isn’t here. She really shouldn’t be traveling so soon after giving birth.” Soren choked on his tea. Had he head him correctly? The dreaded smile on Kurthnaga’s lips suggested that he had. “Congratulations on becoming an older brother, by the way.” Soren choked on air this time, “Are you alright?”

“I’m –” Soren hit his chest a couple of times to stem his coughing fit, “ – fine.” He took a long drink of his tea before speaking again. “Why are you telling me this?” Kurthnaga considered his muffin half thoughtfully.

“Well… it’s part of the reason I’m here.” He said. “We’ve been trying to reach you for years, but you’ve been rather difficult to track down. Imagine my surprise when a strange young dragon shows up out of the blue and hands me a letter with your name on it. Your mother cried for a week.” He chuckled and lifted his cup to his lips.

“She’s no mother of mine.” Soren said. He took a vicious bite of his muffin and chewed it like an unripe fruit. Kurthnaga’s smile fell and he dropped his gaze.

“She is by blood, if nothing else.” He said softly. Soren rolled his eyes, “Is that… why you didn’t come to us for help?”

“Excuse me?” Soren quirked an eyebrow.

“Your injury,” Kurthnaga gestured to his eyes, “Nils told us about it. Severe mana poisoning by dragon’s breath. We could have helped you… why didn’t you come to us?”

“I have no reason to ask favors of you.” Soren said, plucking a blueberry from his muffin and popping it into his mouth.

“No reason to… You asked us to help Nils; Is that not asking a favor?” Kurthnaga protested.

“I wrote a letter of _introduction_ for Nils. I never asked you to help him.” Soren replied. Kurthnaga let out a frustrated breath.

“Of course we were going to help him! We could never refuse even an indirect request from you. We’re family –” Kurthnaga was interrupted by an unexpected snarl.

“ _We,_ ” Soren waved a hand between them, “Are not _family._ ” He spat, “My only family is _dead._ ”

His words echoed throughout the empty room and shook his heart. It had been a long time since he’d said the words out loud and it hurt more than he liked to admit. Did he still have the right to call Ike his family after everything he’d done?

Soren gripped his cup hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Kurthnaga stared at him with a pained expression and traced the rim of his mug with his finger.

“I know,” He said softly, “I… Reyson told me. We’ve been looking for you ever since.”

“I wish you hadn’t bothered.” Soren mumbled, fiddling with the crumbs on his plate. Kurthnaga smiled sadly at his tea.

“Yes, well…” He sighed and reached into the pocket of his cloak, “I suppose I should have expected that reaction, given our history.” He hesitated before sliding a small blue pouch across the table. “I want you to have this.” Soren narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but picked it up and rolled the pouch around in his fingers. It’s insides felt hard, somewhat round and multifaceted… a stone perhaps?

“What is it?” He asked. Kurthnaga looked as though he was wondering if he should answer the question truthfully – or at all.

“…It’s a sending stone.” He said. Soren dropped the pouch like he’d been burned.

“It’s a _what?_ ” He hissed.

“Before you get angry,” Kurthnaga pushed the pouch back towards Soren, “Just listen.” There was another long pause, “Almedha and I both want to be a part of your life, we always have… and we’d love to welcome you to Goldoa.” He looked up and smiled at Soren, “And I know you’re not very fond of us but… a thousand years is a long time to be alone. We just… want you to have the option... Should you need it... or want it.”

Soren stared blankly at the pouch, but made no move to touch it, so Kurthnaga continued.

“You don’t have to worry about either of us dropping by unannounced, but… if you could find it within yourself to reach out every so often just to let us know you’re alive… that would be all we could hope for.” He tilted his head just a little, “Just think about it, alright?”

Soren didn’t answer, but Kurthnaga seemed at peace with that. He stood, stretched and walked towards the door.

“I’m going to go find Nasir and Nils,” He stopped at the entry and looked back, “We’ll be leaving tomorrow. Nasir and Nils are heading to Pharae, and I’m bound back for Goldoa. We’ve booked rooms at the Inn, but we’d love for you to join us for dinner.” Soren grunted, “You can bring that friend Nils mentioned… Isaac, was it? I’d love to meet him.”

Soren felt his breath hitch as the door closed behind him.

\-----

Isaac had learned quite quickly that the only way to work through a broken heart was by, well, working.

He would wake up with the sun and spend his days busying himself with as many tasks as he could manage. Offering to help sell wares at the market, milk cattle, taking over another guard’s shift, whatever he could find, he’d do. He often worked through lunch, only resting once the sun had completely set and he was forced to stop.

Isaac often found himself lost in thought on his way home in the dark. His feet always managed to carry him to the base of the hill where Soren lived. He’d stay there for a time, watching the candlelight flickering through the windows of his small house, reminding himself that Soren was still here.

There was still hope for them.

That thought would sustain him long enough to get home and down a cold dinner before succumbing to a fitful night’s sleep.

If the people around him were concerned, they never commented. For that, Isaac was grateful. He’d rather just stay as busy as possible and hope that in time, Soren would seek him out and they could make things right.

Isaac was helping fix a merchant cart that morning; the cart had hit a large rock that splintered one of the wooden wheels. The merchant had left to find a replacement wheel, while Isaac stayed with the cart and tried to use some of the wooden crates to lift the cart off the ground enough to remove the broken wheel. It was a little hard to focus when the air was thick with the scent of the coconuts that filled the crates. He felt his heart constrict at the memory of his first few days with Soren, but forced the thought from his mind. He was determined not to think about him.

A familiar voice jolted him from his thoughts.

“There he is. Isaac! Isaac over here!” Isaac turned to see Nils – accompanied by a tall figure he didn’t recognize – waving enthusiastically from atop a small hill. He managed a small smile, and put down the crate of fruits he’d been holding, and walked to meet them.

“Nils!” He said just as Nils captured him in a hug around his waist, “You’re back! How’d it go? Did you find what you were looking for?” Nils looked up at him and beamed. The man Isaac didn’t recognize stood stark still and stared at him like he’d seen a ghost.

Isaac’s brow furrowed. The man was quite tall – taller than Isaac at least – sharp features with warm caramel skin and a shock of pale blue hair tied behind his neck. He didn’t look away even when Isaac stared back at him.

It was unnerving.

“I did!” Nils exclaimed. Isaac managed an awkward chuckled and ruffled his hair. He glanced at the stranger, still feeling rather uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Good, I’m glad. So, uh… who’s this?” Isaac asked.

“Huh? Oh! Right! Isaac, this is my grandpa, Nasir!” He said, grin bigger than ever.

“Grandfather…?! Seriously?” Isaac said, slightly in awe, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Nasir. I’m Isaac.” He held out his hand, a gestured that seemed to both surprised Nasir and shake him out of his daze.

“Huh? Oh! It’s… nice to meet you too… Isaac.”  Nasir took Isaac’s hand with the most peculiar expression.

“Oooh! I have so much to tell you both! Are you busy? Soren’s waiting for us!” Nils grabbed Soren by his wrist and tugged.

“S-Soren? Nils I-I… don’t think that’s a good idea.” He stuttered.

“Huh? Why not?” Nils asked. Isaac could only smile weakly.

“It’s… difficult to explain…” He said, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. Nils blinked up at him.

“Did you two have a fight?” He asked.

“Not… exactly…” Isaac could feel Nasir staring at him. It felt itchy.

“Then what’s the problem? Let’s go!” Nils tugged on Isaac’s wrist again, but Nasir stepped in.

“Why don’t you join us for lunch, Isaac?” He said with a curious grin.

“Huh?” Both Isaac and Nils responded.

“Soren already has company. It would be rude to intrude.” Nasir gave Nils a pointed look, realization blossoming over the young dragon’s face as he nodded in understanding.

“He has company? That’s… rare.” Isaac said, a little airy. In the six months they’d spent together Soren hadn’t had a single guest barring the occasional short visit from Stefan. It was worrying to think that Soren was enjoying someone else’s company to the point where he wouldn’t want to be disturbed.

Nasir kept staring at him like he knew something funny, and that certainly didn’t do anything to calm Isaac’s jittery nerves.

“Hmm I guess they do have a lot of catching up to do…” Nils kicked the sand, “I was looking forward to talking with you both though…” Isaac ruffled Nils’ hair again.

“Next time.” He said with a convincing, but forced smile. The promise of a return visit seemed to cheer him up.

The merchant soon returned with a wainwright and a new wheel. He thanked Isaac for helping with the cart and sent the trio on their way, Nils babbling excitedly about his trip to Goldoa and everyone he’d met there. He told Isaac over thick stew with rice about how he met Nasir after about a month and how happy he was to learn that his family was larger than just him and his sister.

Isaac didn’t talk much throughout the meal, nor did Nasir, but Isaac would catch Nasir looking at him every now and again. It was distracting and he found himself often having to ask Nils to repeat things because he was preoccupied with wondering what exactly Nasir found so interesting about his face.

Just when Isaac thought he couldn’t stay quiet, Nils bounced to his feet and trotted across the floor of the tavern in search of some kind of desert. This left Isaac alone with Nasir who appeared to be lost in thought.

“You look like you have something to say.” He said with all the tact of a drunken sailor. Nasir’s look of surprise quickly shifted to confusion.

“Sorry?” He said.

“You’ve been staring.” Isaac tapped his finger on the table.

“Ah. Forgive me, it’s just that… you remind me of someone I knew.” Whatever Isaac had been expecting as an explanation, that hadn’t been it. “Honestly, the likeness is uncanny…” Isaac wanted to ask him what he meant, but Nils chose that moment to return with four huge slices of coconut cream pie; two slices carried by someone Isaac didn’t recognize, though he felt familiar in a way Isaac couldn’t place at first.

It only took a few moments to realize that the stranger reminded him strongly of Soren. Everything from the texture of his hair to the shape of his jaw was reminiscent of the mage he loved. He could tell at a glance that this man was far more patient and gentle than Soren, though perhaps a bit too mellow. His bearing was regal and refined, but he lacked the sort of dangerous elegance and raw bite that Soren emanated.

He really missed Soren.

The stranger tensed as he and Nils neared the table like he has surprised to see Isaac, like he recognized him from somewhere.

Of course, that was impossible.

“So let me introduce you,” Nils set his plates down on the table, “Kurthnaga, this is Isaac, the one I’ve been telling you about. Isaac, this is Kurthnaga, Soren’s…um…” He looked up at Kurthnaga for help.

“Uncle,” Kurthnaga clarified, extending his hand to Isaac, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isaac. I’ve heard quite a bit about you but I must admit… you’re not exactly what I expected and yet somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Yeah… likewise…” Isaac responded absentmindedly. His head was spinning. This was Soren’s uncle? He hadn’t realized Soren still had living family. “Uh, I mean, it’s nice to meet you.” He shook Kurthnaga’s hand, only for him to start laughing. “…Did I say something funny?” Kurthnaga’s shoulder’s shook a bit as he sat down.

“No, no,” He said, “Nothing like that. You simply… remind me of someone I used to know.”

“It’s a remarkable resemblance, really.” Nasir commented, leaning in a little with a sly smile.

“Indeed.” Kurthnaga smiled. Nils glanced between them, his cheeks stuffed with pie. “Nils tells me you’re acquainted with Soren as well?” Isaac hesitated. The way Kurthnaga phrased the question felt strange.

“Yeah, I am,” He said carefully, “But we’re… not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.” Nils smacked his fork against his plate.

“So you _are_ fighting!” He grumbled.

“Nils, it’s not like that.” Isaac’s words were weary.

“I think I understand the situation.” To Isaac’s surprise, Kurthnaga was smiling widely from behind his fingertips. “Forgive me if this is a littler personal but… Isaac, are you and Soren perhaps… _involved_?” Isaac nearly spat out a forkful of pie.

“Involved?” Nils tilted his head in confusion, “Involved in what…? Oh. Oh!” He leapt to his feet, “Isaac, are you in love with Soren?!” Isaac felt his cheeks burn.

“Nils! You can’t just ask someone that.” Nasir cuffed his grandson upside the back of his head.

“But this is big news!” Nils rubbed the back of his head. Kurthnaga hummed thoughtfully.

“Is that it, Isaac? Are you in love with my nephew?” Kurthnaga’s steady stare made Isaac feel like he was on trial and he had no idea what to say. He’d barely known this man for more than a few minutes and already he was expected to talk about his feelings? That said, he was Soren’s family. If anyone would be able to give Isaac some insight into Soren’s inner workings, wouldn’t it be a member of his family?

He took a deep breath and looked Kurthnaga dead in the eyes.

“I am.” He said.

“And does he return your feelings?” The dragon king asked.

“I… don’t know. I don’t think so.” Isaac averted his gaze. Nils made a garbled outranged sound that Isaac probably would have laughed at if he wasn’t feeling so jittery.

“I’ll assume from that answer that you at least told him.” Kurthnaga said.

“I have. He didn’t take it well.” Isaac said.

“No, I imagine he wouldn’t.” Kurthnaga sighed.

“What do you mean by that?” Isaac asked.

“Kurthnaga, are you sure you should…?” Nasir cautioned.

“Hush, Nasir,” Kurthnaga flicked his wrist, “Isaac… relationships are a bit of a… _touchy_ subject for Soren. I’m honestly surprised he’s still in this village, considering you told him your feelings outright.” Isaac averted his eyes again, “Ah…so he tried then, did he?” Isaac’s mouth felt dry, so he nodded in response. “What made him stay?”

Isaac couldn’t find the words to reply. He didn’t want to think about that night; he didn’t want to think about the possibility of waking up one morning only to find Soren _gone._

All three dragons looked at him expectantly. The din of the tavern seemed oddly quiet.

“I-I don’t know. I mean, I asked him to, but I didn’t expect him to actually –” He fumbled.

“You _asked_ him to?! And he _listened_?!” Nasir had a bizarre look of awe on his face.

“I... uh, yes? I mean, my memory is a little fuzzy, but…” Isaac’s brow furrowed; Kurthnaga and Nasir shared a look.

“Isaac,” Kurthnaga said slowly, eyes still focused on Nasir, “Soren has… no, actually I think it would be best if you heard it from him yourself.” He shook his head.

“Yeah, if he ever speaks to me again.” Isaac mumbled.

Nils, who had been quiet for most of the discussion, broke the heavy silence.

“Hey Isaac?” He said.

“Yeah?” Isaac looked up from his half-eaten pie to see Nils smiling at him.

“If you two aren’t together by the time I come back to visit, I will do everything in my power to make sure neither of you ever sleep again.” He said. Isaac felt a genuine laugh bubble up from his throat – the first one in a week – promptly accompanied by Nasir and Kurthnaga. Nils looked at the three of them and puffed out his cheeks. “What? I’m a bard! I can totally do that.”

Kurthnaga was the first to recover.

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that.” He chuckled, “Soren just needs time to sort things out. And when that time comes, I’ll be leaving him in your care, Isaac.”

Isaac felt a faint swell of hope.

“Thank you,” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That thing about Reyson… I’m not mentioning details in 99th cuz I might talk about it in a short spin-off instead, but essentially Soren made a special trip to Serenes after Ike died and asked Reyson for a special tree that could live in the desert. Reyson then blessed and gave Soren an aspen tree that Soren used as Ike’s headstone. That aspen, being from Serenes and blessed by the Herons, brought forth the entire forest west of Arcadia and soon became the lifeblood of the village since rare medicinal plants grow there. The village’s main export is medicine after all.
> 
> So yeah. I dunno if I’m gonna write that spin-off or not. There will be a prequel to this fic (coming soon) about Soren and Ike post events of RD, but I dunno if I’ll do the other one. It’d be pretty depressing.
> 
> On the topic of other things I don’t wanna explain… I kinda headcannon Nasir as the same type of dragon as Ninian and Nils. Since Ena is his granddaughter, that leaves a lot of free space for things like Nasir’s wife and children. I am therefore going to assume that Aenir (Ninian and Nils’ mom) is Nasir’s daughter who ran off to marry Nergal, got caught up in the scouring and died, sending Ninian and Nils through a portal to a place where only dragons live. That makes Nasir rather over protective of Ena because he knows what happened the last time one of his family members ran off to chase their lover. Events after 99th are mostly canonical in regards to Nils and Ninian (they manage to stabilize her, but he ends up dying a few years later from an unrelated disease). Nils decides to live with Nasir and Goldoa after Ninian dies.
> 
> ....I wanna write fluff now. Can I write fluff? No? I have to finish the drama first?
> 
> .............nuts.


	7. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think in any other world and different circumstances, Micaiah and Soren would have been childhood friends; an unwanted, reluctant but inseparable friendship. They’re not close to the point where they reveal all their feelings, but damn if they wouldn’t cut a bitch for the other.

While he had spent most of the afternoon dreading a social call from Kurthnaga, dinner was surprisingly not awkward. Nils dominated the conversation from start to finish, eager to tell Soren the details about his trip across Tellius.

Soren listened intently, trying to pretend the Kurthnaga wasn’t staring at him with an extremely pleased smile. They hadn’t done more than exchange greetings since their mid-morning discussion and Soren had been expecting him to be in a rather somber mood; the fact that he was cheerfully chatting with Nils and Nasir was off-putting and suspicious.

It wasn’t until after dinner that his suspicions were confirmed. Nils hugged him tightly in a tearful goodbye, promising repeatedly that he’d come visit and insisting that Soren reconcile with Isaac. Soren caught Kurthnaga’s genuinely pleased stare and he realized with a great deal of unease that his uncle had, in fact, met Isaac.

As they were leaving, Kurthnaga placed his hand on Soren’s shoulder and told him, “I’m happy for you,” with a delighted grin. He took his leave before Soren could respond.

Soren didn’t get much sleep that night. The sending stone sitting on his dresser didn’t help clear his mind either.

Surly lack of sleep was the reason why, instead of making his usual trip to the forest and home again, Soren found himself instead on Micaiah’s doorstep, unwilling to knock but unable to leave. It had been several weeks since the festival and Soren felt no closer to clarity than he had been the moment Isaac kissed him. Isolation had him thinking in circles, and he’d come to the conclusion that the only way to break this cyclical patterns was to obtain some outside input.

Unfortunately that input had to be Micaiah. After all, she was the only one who could even begin to understand his situation. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still reluctant to talk to her – or anyone, for that matter.

With a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

“I’m around back!” He heard Micaiah call. He furrowed his brow, but slowly walked around the adobe building.

Soren was surprised to find a sprawling garden amidst the sand and palms. Rare herbs and flowers not native to the desert were neatly set in raised rows shaded by a fine mesh awning. It was beautiful, really, and must have taken years to create given the demanding needs of each plant and the sheer variety present.

Micaiah waved at him from amidst the tall stalks of a flowerbed, and wiped the sweat from beneath her sunhat.

“I didn’t know you had a garden,” He said, silently identifying each type of herb as he noticed them. Micaiah laughed.

“Not everyone enjoys spending their entire day lost in a book,” She spared a brief look at Lennea to ensure she was still sleeping under a nearby palm tree before returning her attention back to Soren, “So what brings you here?”

Soren hesitated. He had resolved himself to talk to Micaiah, but hadn’t given proper thought towards what to say. Then again, his options for outside counsel were either her or Stefan, and Micaiah was clearly the better choice given her history.

That didn’t make starting the conversation any easier. He rarely had the sort of deep conversations commonly exchanged between… friends.

Were they friends? Micaiah had said they were. With the exception of Ike, Soren had never had someone to call a friend. A close acquaintance perhaps, but never a true friend.

Then again, calling Micaiah a true friend certainly felt bizarre.

“At least help me weed if you’re going to just stand there,” She sighed, pulling his focus back to reality. He waded through the sea of green and dropped to his knees, glad to have something to do with his hands while he figured out exactly what it was he wanted to say.

“Now then,” Micaiah began for him, “To what do I owe this visit?” He plucked a few weeds before replying.

“I thought I should get out of the house for a little while.” Soren mumbled. She looked at him with a wide, curious smile on his lips.

“So you decided to come visit me?” Micaiah didn’t bother hiding the amusement in her voice, “That’s unusual… is Isaac out of town or something?” Soren jolted at the mention of Isaac’s name.

“N-no. No, I don’t think so.” He said, shrinking just a little lower behind the lemon balm.

“So he’s in town but you’re choosing to spend time with me instead.” Micaiah prodded with a raised brow.

“That’s right.” He grumbled. Micaiah sighed and sat back on her hands.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” She asked. Soren looked up at her almost defiantly, but the defiance was short lived.

“…No,” He admitted, “No I suppose not.”

She considered him carefully for a time, scrutinizing his movements. Soren tried to ignore the weight of her gaze, content to eradicate the tiny unwanted plants with all the nervous energy he could muster.

Finally tired of watching him, she rolled forward onto her knees.

“Soren?” She reached across the lemon balm to lightly touch his shoulder, “What happened?” Soren shook his head and pushed her hand away.

“Don’t. Please.” He said, chewing his lower lip, “I’m still not…” Where could he even begin?

She waited patiently, perched on the balls of her feet, unmoving.

Finally, he stitched together enough words.

“Micaiah, can I ask you a question?” Soren asked.

“Of course.” Micaiah nodded.

He hesitated, still gathering his thoughts. She didn’t move or speak, and for that he was grateful.

“Have you ever…” A deep breath, “Would you… would you ever consider remarrying?” Soren finally asked. She tilted her head to the side with a small frown.

“Why do you ask?” She sounded genuinely curious, but Soren didn’t want her prodding him for answers he didn’t have. Not yet.

“Just… answer the question please.” He said.

Micaiah tapped her chin thoughtfully. The seconds felt like hours though Soren couldn’t fathom why.

“Well,” She said after a good while, “I’ve never really considered it… but I suppose if the right person came along, it’s possible that I would.”

Soren blinked, stunned.

“Why?” He whispered.

“Huh?” Micaiah looked confused.

“Why would you consider it?” Soren’s fingers curled into the dirt, “What about Sothe?”

His words seemed to echo around them, bouncing off the walls of the building and beating back every sound but silence.

“Sothe is gone, Soren.” Micaiah murmured with only the faintest of tremors.

“And your feelings with him?” Soren asked, voice cracking but somehow firm. Micaiah let out a long, deep sigh.

“It’s not like that.” She said.

Soren finally raised his head to catch her eyes.

“Isn’t it?” He asked.

Micaiah rolled back onto her knees and continued plucking weeds. Slowly, deliberately she moved. Soren wondered if she had decided to pretend he wasn’t there.

He was almost startled when she started talking again.

“Soren,” She said, “Do you think a person can only fall in love once in a lifetime?”

Soren continued to stare at her, unsure of how to respond. Had she asked him that question months ago he would have said yes without hesitation but now…

Now he wasn’t so sure. 

“I… don’t know. Can they?” He averted his eyes.

“I know they can,” She smiled softly, “I have.”

Soren’s head snapped upright, his eyes wide as open lilies.

“You…” Soren gasped, “You have…? But when –” Micaiah shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “…who?”

She rocked on her heels and hummed.

“It was during the Goddess War,” She said with a wistful smile, “I fell in love with a man who claimed to be king, but wasn’t.” 

Soren could scarcely believe his ears. He knew exactly who she spoke of.

“You can’t mean… Pelleas? You… and Pelleas?” Soren stared at her in disbelief. Micaiah nodded.

“Yes, yes. Me and Pelleas.” She confirmed.

Soren shook his head and rubbed his arms like it was a nervous tick

”I don’t understand. I thought you… and Sothe...” He swallowed, “I thought you and Sothe had always been together. I thought you had a special bond… like…” his hands shook, “...me and Ike. In a way.”

Her hands stopped moving for a few moments. She was clearly surprised by his admission and unsure of how exactly to handle it.

“It’s not that simple Soren.” She closed her eyes, “I practically raised Sothe. It was… hard for me to see him as anything other than my little brother.”

“And yet you married him.” He said.

Her face grew tight.

“I didn’t have much choice.” Micaiah ran her fingers through her hair, then adjusted her hat, “I was pregnant with Pelleas’ child, and as the queen of Daein, giving birth while unwed would have been… disgraceful… in the eyes of the public. And they’re the ones who put me on the throne.” She sighed, “The senate wouldn’t allow Pelleas to share the throne with me either, being the so-called son of a mad king. It was a blessing they even allowed him to stay at court.” She picked a single leaf from a mint plant and chewed it thoughtfully, “I know it was awful of me but… when Sothe proposed he said he was fine being my husband in name only; that he wasn’t going anywhere and our relationship wouldn’t change.”

“So I agreed. All three of us did.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and somehow Soren understood that the choice she made had been far more difficult than she let on.

He couldn’t help but think her pitiful, in a way.

Her story continued.

“Pelleas took ill shortly after the wedding – not a normal sickness mind you. The spirit he made a pact with simply decided that his time was up. He never got to meet his son.” The shaky breath she drew had Soren shivering unpleasantly, the emotions all too real, too _raw_. “I thought I’d be heartbroken for the rest of my life… but…”

Micaiah met Soren’s gaze with a pained, but peaceful smile.

“One day I woke up and… Sothe was just sitting there on the terrace laughing with my son on his knee and… suddenly everything felt different.” She said, voice fond and rich.

“What changed?” Soren asked.

“I’m not sure,” She said honestly, “I can’t explain it, just that… in that moment I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life at Sothe’s side, and after everything I’d been through I… I just wanted to be happy – _he_ made me happy. For me, that was enough to know I loved him.”

“I… see…” Soren croaked. His chest felt tight and sore. He hadn’t expected Micaiah’s story to hit him in such a profound way.

“Sounds a bit like you and Isaac, doesn’t it?” She said, a little sad and a touch wistful.

Soren flinched, but didn’t respond. He left the conversation to die, both mages content, lost in their respective thoughts. A deafening quiet wrapped around them interrupted only by the shifting of cloth, dirt, and an occasional snore from Lennea.

Micaiah was right, of course. Just like Sothe had for her, Isaac had made him happy in ways he’d never quite realized. Of course, that feeling wasn’t a direct translation for love – at least, not the kind of love he’d experienced.

And if the feelings were different, even slightly, how would he recognize them? How would he know that what he was feeling was truly love of a different kind and not some sort of cheap replacement used to sate himself in the short term?

“Micaiah,” He said tentatively.

“Yes?” She responded.

“How did you… know… that you weren’t using Sothe as a… _replacement_ for Pelleas?” He asked.

She threw a small handful of tiny weeds at him and huffed.

“Soren, they’re two different people!” Her voice had an incredulous edge.

“Yes but they both filled the same role,” He brushed the weeds off his chest where the roots had stuck, “Wouldn’t that make one a replacement?”

Micaiah let out a deep, exasperated sigh.

“Of course it wouldn’t. Pelleas is Pelleas and Sothe is Sothe. Even if they hypothetically looked exactly the same, sounded _exactly_ the same, neither would be a replacement for the other. They’re different people with different memories, histories, experiences… and when you love someone, you love them as a whole. Having a few similarities means nothing when there are so many differences.”

“Besides,” She continued, “I think that when you love someone – regardless of your relationship with them – they become a part of you. Their existence in your life helps shape you into who you are… into someone _new_.” Micaiah’s smile broadened, “I like to think that had I never fallen for Pelleas, I would have never become the person who could fall in love with Sothe. It’s because I loved Pelleas that I was able to love Sothe. Now… they’re both a part of me, so if I were to fall in love again it would be _because_ of the two of them. Perhaps that means they fall in love along with me.” She closed her eyes and smiled that bittersweet smile that filled Soren with fearsome nostalgia. “But no matter what happens, I know they’re with me. They’ll love our children as I love them, and they’ll love whoever I fall for just as much as I will.” She giggled, turning to look at Lennea who blearily opened her eyes but didn’t fully wake.

Micaiah stood and excused herself to attend to her toddler while Soren sat in the dirt, fingers barely moving as he tried to process her words.

“…Is that how it is…?” He wondered aloud.

\-----

Soren lied awake that night mulling over Micaiah’s words. He’d never considered the possibility that one could fall in love twice. He’d always thought that people who claimed to be in love over and over had never actually been in love, not the way he had at least. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never have thought her to have loved anyone but Sothe – that was the one thing he always felt they had in common; a mutual understanding of sorts.

But Micaiah had loved Pelleas first, and Sothe second, and the thought made Soren’s head spin. How could one love two people? Or three, as she implied could be the case at some unforeseen point in the future? Soren had never thought his heart large enough for two; whatever love he had was Ike’s and Ike’s alone… but he couldn’t deny the fact that Isaac and somehow snuck his way in.

It was terrifying, thinking that Isaac could be taking the love he had shared with Ike and claiming it as his own. If he allowed it to go on, would that mean that he grew to love Ike less? Would there come a day when Isaac would occupy his entire heart, and he’d forget about Ike entirely?

He gripped his sheets. That couldn’t be. Micaiah had said that when Pelleas died, he became a part of her, but what she meant by that he still wasn’t sure. Was it possible that instead of being an occupant of her heart, he became a part of it instead? Like an extra bedroom that was added on to a cabin long after the original structure was complete; an extension of her emotional real estate perhaps.

Is that what she meant when she said she wouldn’t have been able to love Sothe without first loving Pelleas?

Was it the same for him? Had Ike increased the capacity of his heart rather than simply occupying what meager space it provided?

He touched his chest absently. Somehow the thought of Ike becoming an extension of his body – even metaphorically – was comforting. Ike was a great man with an enormous heart and Soren had spent his whole life envious and in awe of Ike’s ability to love those who were important to him, even Soren who believed himself incapable of being loved.

And perhaps… because Ike loved him, and Ike was now a part of him… perhaps Soren could love himself – even if it was just a little. After all, Ike loved him. That had to mean he was worth something.

Soren turned to his side and caught sight of that small blue satchel Kurthnaga had forced upon him and took a deep breath.

He slipped out of bed and picked the silken pouch up, rolling the clothed stone between his fingers.

His heart began to race.

A proper conversation between him and Almedha had occurred only once just before Queen Elincia’s wedding, instigated by Kurthnaga who insisted upon revealing Soren’s heritage to him despite Almedha’s protests. It hadn’t gone well, and Soren still felt a little sick when he thought about the fact that he had living blood relations.

There were few specifics he remembered from that time; his mind had been a whirlwind of fury and distress, but he did remember one thing.

He remembered Almedha boldly declaring that he was her son, and that she had always loved him.

Soren tugged lightly on the drawstring and eased the stone partially out of the sack.

Was it cruel of him to test her? To see if there was truly room for him in her heart? She had a new son after all – his brother – who could easily replace him.

Did she love them both? Did she truly love him at all?

What would he say? Should he call her mother? Would she recognize him from a mere sending stone? After all, it had been over one hundred and fifty years since they’d last met.

He was running through possible opening lines when his thumb brushed against the stone.

With all the force of a tidal wave, a surge of emotions rushed through him so quickly he dropped the stone in surprise. He stared at it, pulsing with blue light on the floor like a heartbeat. With great hesitancy, he reached for the stone again, this time bracing himself for the emotional impact.

A wise move for the emotions that hit him a second time he was barely prepared to handle. Panic, relief, shock and sheer delight blitzed through his veins, so overwhelming in their intensity that he could barely make out the words that were trying to echo in his mind.

He could feel her – Almedha’s – emotions; unstable, raw, but very, very real to the point where he found himself unable to continue standing. Soren tried to force himself to calm down and despite his confused state, he found Almedha relaxing somewhat as well.

At least she seemed happy to hear from him.

He quickly learned that sending stones don’t transmit words the way he had expected. What passed through the stone was more of a vague impression of one’s intentions. It made conversing rather difficult, but somehow this visceral way of communicating was more powerful. While one could easily hide their emotions behind a wall of words, a sending stone bypassed any and all barriers until only the honest truth was left.

It was both terrifying and comforting.

It wasn’t as difficult to talk to Almedha as he’d thought it would be. She felt familiar in ways he hadn’t anticipated and though it made him uneasy, he could tell that they had similar dispositions to the point where the conversation felt rather formulaic.  

Soren knew she could feel his trepidation the same way he could feel the flickers of hope she kept pushing away. She made a great effort to keep the conversation even, almost formal – or as formal as a non-verbal discussion could get – and a part of him truly appreciated that. He wasn’t sure he could handle a true heart to heart with her. Not yet at least.

Specifics were difficult for him to grasp but he did manage to decipher some things. He understood that his little brother was about two years old and that he was named after Soren to some degree, and that it was her new husband who named him. Soren could feel that Almedha desperately wanted to see him and that nothing would make her happier than to be able to see her two sons standing side by side one day.

Both of them.

Together.

Soren set the stone down on the bed taking deep, steadying breaths to calm his quivering heart. It flickered beside him likely from Almedha frantically trying to reconnect with him but he couldn’t bring himself to touch it. He didn’t want her to feel this – whatever this emotion was. She hadn’t hesitated in proclaiming her desire to have them both close by. Neither child was portrayed as an afterthought.

She truly had room for two.

Even after all those years of separation, the love that Soren thought was flimsy and shallow proved to be genuine. Every thought she shared with him was filled with a hopeful longing that was difficult to misconstrue as anything but her desire to have him in her life.

In that way, Micaiah had been right; he hadn’t been replaced.

Soren picked up the stone again and tried to tell her that he’d think about visiting, if only to buy himself some time and allow him to gracefully withdraw from the conversation. Her response was a bittersweet flush of elation and disbelief, overbearing in its enthusiasm. Soren knew right then that she had been expecting him to ignore her wistful wish entirely. He knew she thought this was mostly a courtesy call and had still been so damn happy just to hear from him.

He slipped the stone back into the pouch, ignoring the flickering glow from inside and set it back on the dresser.

Absently he touched his cheeks, realizing they were wet with tears that weren’t his.

Soren rubbed his eyes and let out a weak laugh – the first one in weeks.

“Ok,” He said to himself, “Ok.”

\-----

It was unseasonably hot.

October was supposed to be a month where the heat began to fade in favor of cooler weather perfect for harvesting. Nature had instead decided to lull the village into a false sense of security by steadily dropping the temperature over a period of weeks and then spiking it back up for a single day of blistering heat.

Most villagers opted to stay indoors for a relaxing day off, venturing outside only when necessary. They could always resume outdoor activities once the heat wave ended.

The lack of general activity left Isaac with very little – if anything – to distract himself save his sword and a few training dummies. If he were to spend an entire morning at the training grounds there would be no one to stop him.

So he did just that, swinging his blade without stopping for hours. The sweat dripped from his back and his skin felt like it was being deep fried, but it was still better than sitting at home doing nothing but wallowing in his own thoughts and frustrations.

The feeling of his blade sinking into the wood was satisfying. It made him feel less helpless. He’d spent an entire month mulling over what to do about Soren and he was still no closer to an answer than he had been on day one. Soren still hadn’t contacted him, and frankly, Isaac wasn’t sure he ever would. Maybe they’d just stay in this stalemate forever.

Deep frustration bubbled up in his chest, and he redoubled his training efforts swinging his sword with such ferocity that one would surly label it reckless.

He felt dizzy and a little nauseous, but that wasn’t unusual. His headband could barely keep the sweat from dripping into his eyes, but still he didn’t stop. He kept going when his breathing grew ragged and his lungs began to burn. His muscles screamed at him to stop and his stomach flipped uncomfortably, but it was still barely noon and Isaac didn’t want to stop because stopping meant thinking.

And thinking hurt more than this.

He swung his sword just a little to wide and stumbled to regain his balance. But the sword fell from his hands and he realized absently that the world seemed just a little blurry.

The world grew black while someone, somewhere called his name.

He awoke to a blurry sky peeking behind palm fronds and a cold cloth on his head. He blinked a few times and tried to sit up. A single finger pressing against the wet cloth on his forehead was enough to push him back down.

“Easy now,” A voice smooth and cool as a river washed over Isaac and instantly his tense muscles began to relax.

He closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. He could feel cold fingertips brushing against his cheek and it sent shivers down his spine.

“What happened?” Isaac asked, surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice.

“You passed out. Heat exhaustion.” The voice said, “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” He said with a weak chuckle, a little embarrassed, “But better than earlier.” He opened his eyes, noticing that his vision had cleared. It took more effort than he was willing to admit, but he turned his head enough to get a look at his companion.

His heart leapt into his throat as scarlet eyes and dark hair slid into focus.

“Good.” Soren said, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“S-Soren!?” Isaac gasped. He tried to sit up but he didn’t get very far before Soren pushed him down again.

“Stay down. I don’t have a heal staff so you’ll have to recover the old-fashioned way.” Soren popped the cork off of a wineskin and offered it to him. “Can you drink?”

“Not… lying down.” Isaac was terribly confused. Why was Soren here?

Was he dreaming? He had passed out after all. Maybe he was just seeing things.

“Hmm,” Soren re-corked the flask and set it in his lap, “Wait a few more minutes then, and I’ll help you up.”

Isaac barely nodded. He didn’t dare move lest he find that this Soren was nothing but an elaborate hallucination. Soren was staring off into the distance at nothing in particular, but Isaac couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Determined to break the awkward silence, he spoke.

“It’s… been a while.” He said. It was a pathetic opening line, but it was all he had.

“…It has hasn’t it?” Soren fiddled with the wineskin. He looked troubled and Isaac didn’t know what to do about it.

“You doing well?” He asked. Soren snorted and let their eyes meet.

“I should be asking you that question,” He said with a tiny smirk, “You’ve lost weight.”

Had he?

Isaac blinked.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Though he was surprised Soren had. Soren’s expression fell.

“…Is it my fault?” He asked quietly. Isaac’s eyes widened. He’d never meant to make Soren feel guilty. His poor condition was his own fault for being unable to cope with his own feelings.

“It’s not.” Isaac said, unable to keep his tone from growing fond. He tried to reach out and touch Soren, but his arms felt like dead weight. Soren must have noticed because he reached out instead to help Isaac sit upright.

“Drink.” He offered Isaac the wineskin again and Isaac downed the entire thing. It wasn’t a full recovery, but he felt significantly better after drinking.

When was the last time he did that?

He couldn’t remember.

“Well, you’re lucky I was here. Training alone in this kind of heat… what would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?” Soren grumbled. He looked equal parts annoyed and embarrassed and damn, if Isaac didn’t find that cute.

“But you did.” Isaac smiled, despite his nerves. Soren turned away, just the slightest bit shy.

“…I did.” He said.

Isaac leaned back against the palm, watching the clouds and simply enjoying the moment. He hadn’t had Soren’s company in over a month and simply sitting beside him was cathartic. Honestly Isaac had all but given up seeing Soren again, yet here he was treating him as if nothing had happened. It still felt a little awkward and Soren was probably just passing by at the right time and happened to stumble upon Isaac’s embarrassing display, but he was still happy.

“Guess I was pretty lucky you passed by, huh?” He said, half expecting Soren to agree or lecture him again; either outcome was welcome. Instead he was met with silence. When he turned to see what the matter was, he saw Soren’s trembling fingers fidgeting with the empty wineskin.

“A-actually…” Soren cleared his throat, “I wasn’t passing by, I was… looking for you.” Isaac’s jaw fell.

“You were…?” He breathed. Soren brushed some loose hair away from his face and nodded. Isaac felt his heart clench, “Why?”

“I felt like I owed you an apology,” Soren said in a quiet voice, “For the way I… reacted.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that. It was my fault to begin with. I should have thought things through a little more.” Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. It was hot, likely burned. He really did a number on himself.

“…Do you regret it?” Soren glanced at him from behind a thin curtain of hair, his voice quivering in a way that made Isaac’s throat grow tight.

“I don’t regret the way I feel,” He said, slowly, carefully, and without losing eye contact with Soren, “but if I lose you because of something I said… then I’ll probably regret telling you.” He swallowed hard, “I’d take it all back if it meant I could stay with you.” Soren’s eyes widened before he looked away.

“T-that won’t be necessary,” He stumbled, “I’m not going anywhere.” Isaac felt his breath hitch.

“Good… good. That’s – That’s good.” He let his head fall back against the tree, “Shit, I’m glad.” He said, pressing his palms into his eyes. It felt like all the emotions he’d been avoiding the last few weeks were racing to exit out his eyes. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Soren said softly, “It’s just… complicated, I –” He shook his head. “Isaac can I… assume that your feelings haven’t changed?”

Isaac felt like he was on fire and it was so hard to _breathe._

“Yes,” He croaked, “I mean, no! No, they haven’t changed. I still – you know.” Maybe it was just his face that was on fire. Soren fixed him with a powerful, vulnerable look and Isaac realized that he wasn’t on fire at all, he was just melting.

“Then there’s something I need you to see.” He said.

“Ok,” Isaac’s voice cracked, “…what is it?” Soren smiled.

“Not right now,” He chided, “First, I’m going to take you home and you’re going to rest for a couple of days. It’s a long trip and I don’t want you passing out on me again.” Isaac’s stomach did a few flips when he heard the word trip.

“Trip? Where are we going?” He asked. Soren got to his feet, then held out his hand to help Isaac stand.

“To Crimea.” He smiled. “It’s time I told you about the greatest man I ever knew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried so hard to make this sound natural. Why is healing so complicated?
> 
> I would be a terrible cleric.


	8. October - November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took... so long to finish. I am sorry, I really am.   
> But the truth is this is the one scene that REALLY made me want to write this whole fic so like an idiot I spent way too long trying to get it just right - not that I'm actually 100% satisfied with the outcome, but I don't think my current level of ability can execute it any better than this, so I'm presenting it to you all as it stands.
> 
> I really, really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. There's still one more to come.

 

Isaac knew exactly three things about Crimea.

First, it was the nation responsible for dethroning King Ashnard the Mad during the Mad King’s War over one hundred fifty years ago.

Second, it was the home country of the Hero of the Blue Flame.

Third, it took about three days by ship, a week by caravan, and two more days on foot to reach the capital, Melior, from Arcadia.

On a side note, Isaac decided that he hated ships.

Having lived in a desert for the last ten years or so, he could only recall one instance where he’d been on a boat larger than a river canoe and that had only been for about an hour on a small fishing boat.

He’d hated that too.

At least the smaller boats were usually traveling over small bodies of water so the trips were rather short and the shore was always in sight. Ships, on the other hand, were used for long voyages with nothing but sea and sky for days and days and days…

It was nauseating.

Isaac still hadn’t gotten his sea legs by the third day, so when the Crimean coast finally came into view he nearly cried in relief. Soren had to steady him down the gangplank because the stupid ground simply would not stay still beneath his feet, and Soren’s stifled giggling certainly didn’t help.

It wasn’t all bad though. As a means of distraction, Soren had taken to telling Isaac stories of his past travels. He recounted locations in vapid detail, recounting sights, sounds, and to some extent people, in such a vivid way that Isaac felt transported to a different place and time by means of Soren’s voice.

The stories never seemed to end, one seamlessly flowing into the next even though they probably happened years apart. With the beginning of each new story, Isaac began to feel the true difference in their ages. He’d never truly considered how much life one could live in a mere century – he’d have dozens of those, after all. To Isaac, a hundred years had always seemed so short, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But the more Soren spoke, the farther away he seemed.

At one point, Isaac had had enough and even said as much. Soren had merely smiled, bumped his shoulder against Isaac’s and said, “I know. But I need you to hear this.”

Isaac couldn’t find it within himself to protest after that.

But the types of stories Soren told him changed. Rather than speak of his solitary journeys to lands unknown, he began to speak of war. Not of tactics, or battles, or the fallout of combat, but of people.

He talked about a female mercenary with long red hair who made her enemies tremble at the sight of her axe, but was always the first to notice when someone was not feeling well. He spoke of a plucky young cleric who’s skills with a sword did not translate well into skills with a kitchen knife. He spoke of three brothers, shy, kind, and brash, a princess, knights, a king driven mad by power, and children who had to grow up too fast.

There were Laguz in his stories, birds, beasts, dragons, and even a few Branded Soren mentioned by names Isaac recognized, and that’s all it takes for the stories to become _real_.

His heart ached listening to Soren speak because everything sounded so bleak and hopeless. Battles one after another, both on and off the battle field and so little time to rest – loved ones ripped away without mercy or time to grieve.

It hurt even more to realize that Isaac knew the tale Soren wove. He’d read it countless times in Soren’s history books, a sterile history he’d always felt detached from. To have the same story retold in such raw, horrific detail made him feel sick. 

It must have been just as difficult to tell as it was to listen because Soren would often trail off mid sentence and stare wordlessly at the horses pulling their borrowed wagon, and Isaac would do his best to change the subject to something a bit more banal, all the while wondering why Soren was making such an effort to tell him these things.

Though, that was a pointless endeavor. Isaac knew exactly why Soren was sifting through the dregs of his past and it had everything to do with a single man – a common loose thread carefully woven throughout the fabric of his tales, never quite the focus, but never out of sight.

Soren had never mentioned a name, never described him in any detail, but Isaac knew exactly who he was, or at least, who he had been to Soren and the role he played in a five year war.

It made his stomach twist in weird, painful ways.

The stories stopped when Melior came into view and both of them breathed deep, bracing themselves for things neither would ever be truly ready for.

The city was a welcome distraction, a giant humming mass of warm bodies, shops, smells, and deafening noise. Though beyond the obvious, Isaac was far more distracted by the sheer mix of Laguz and Beorc simply… _coexisting_ like it was natural or something. It was surreal, especially coming from a place where Laguz and Beorc rarely intermingled, like Daein.

He was so fascinated in fact, that he barely noticed Soren dragging him through the crowd until they were standing in front of Castle Crimea and Soren pulled the hood of Isaac’s cape over his head.

“Keep that on.” He said before speaking with the guard at the gate. The guardsman’s eyes grew wide as Soren spoke and with a very frantic bow, he rang for an escort to take them inside. Isaac’s brow furrowed with confusion, but Soren simply shook his head in dismissal.

It was barely two minutes before a very anxious noble came rushing towards them and hurriedly ushered them into the castle.

And what a castle it was.

They sped through grand hallways of white stone adorned with deep blue tapestries and everything trimmed with gold. Isaac barely had time to take any of it in until their guide finally led them to a small sparsely furnished room and asked them to wait there. Isaac plopped himself down on a stupidly comfortable velvet chair, decidedly overwhelmed and stared up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. Soren stood stiffly nearby, fidgeting with his sleeves but not saying anything beyond a reminder for Isaac to keep his hood on.

The noble returned shortly with another man in tow. Isaac didn’t bother to try and get a good look at him; all the finery was starting to make his head spin.

“Master Tactician, His Majesty requests an audience with you.” The new noble said. Soren scowled.

“I’m not here on a social call. I requested access to the Archive Gallery, and permission for that is granted by the Archivist, not the King.” He said.

“And you have been granted permission, as requested. However, his Majesty would like to meet with you first, if you don’t mind. I don’t expect it will take long. His Majesty only wishes to meet the tactician who fought alongside the Hero of Crimea.” The noble replied. Soren sighed.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” He grumbled, “May my companion wait in the gallery for me?”

“Yes, of course. If you would both follow me, then.” The noble turned and led them out a set of ivory doors through another series of confusing but elegant hallways. Isaac moved closer to Soren.

“Hey Soren?” He asked, voice low. Soren hummed in acknowledgment, “What exactly are we doing here?” Soren was quiet for a moment.

“There’s something here I want to show you,” Even the echoes of their footsteps were louder than his voice.

“In an archive?” Isaac frowned. Soren nodded, “Then shouldn’t I go with you?”

“No. I don’t want you attracting attention,” Isaac’s frown deepened, “Wait for me in the gallery and have a good look around. There’s plenty to see.”

“Look around for what, though?” Isaac didn’t like Soren’s cryptic phrasing.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Soren gave him an uneasy smile as they came to a stop before another set of double doors, “This is your stop. I’ll be back soon.” Isaac tried to squash the nervous twisting in his gut as he watched Soren disappear down the hall. He nearly jumped when a bearded old man – the archivist, probably – tapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you ready?” He asked in a voice that felt about as worn as Isaac’s nerves.

“As I’ll ever be.” He said.

The polished oak doors opened, and Isaac held his breath as he stepped inside.

\-----

There were paintings _everywhere_.

From floor to vaulted ceiling, the entire winding, twisting, enormous series of rooms was covered in paintings. Hundreds and hundreds of portraits, every one framed and hung with purpose. The lighting was dim, mostly filtering in from tall windows hidden behind sheer curtains.

Where did he even start?

He glanced at the archivist for some kind of assistance, only to realize that he wouldn’t even know what to ask. Lucky for him, the archivist was a sharp old man.

“You seem a bit lost.” He said with a sly smile.

“Uh, yeah. I guess I am.” Isaac gave the room another wary glance. The old man considered him for a moment, then motioned for Isaac to follow him down a series of twisting corridors.

The archivist stopped at the entrance of one particular room, well lit and full of thin walls that served no purpose other than to allow more paintings to be hung.

“Perhaps this room has what you’re looking for,” The archivist said, patting Isaac on the back and heading back the way they came. It was a weird thing to say, and frankly Isaac still had no idea where to start looking or what to look for, even if he was in the right room. Then again, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do while Soren met with the King. He stepped into the light and wondered what it was they had traveled all this way for.

He only saw unfamiliar faces at first, though that was no surprise. The gallery was full of Crimea’s history after all and he was from another country altogether. It wasn’t as if history books had much in the way of pictures either.

But the more he wandered around, the more he began to think that some of the figures looked vaguely familiar. Somehow that was stranger than staring at paintings of people he didn’t recognize, and he found himself pausing every so often to stare at faces he shouldn’t be able to identify.

It was disturbing.

A small green haired girl in a flouncy ocher dress smiled down at him, and Isaac quickly rounded a corner to escape that gnawing feeling, only to come face to face with a red-headed white knight.

He stared at the knight, wide-eyed and jaw slack. Soren had told Isaac about her, she was a mercenary, a fantastic one at that. She’d fought alongside him during the Mad King’s War and had come up several times in Soren’s stories. By the Goddess, she looked _exactly_ as Soren described her. What was her name… Tana? Tatiana? No, Titania. That was it.

Then it clicked.

It wasn’t just this knight. Every single portrait was of a character from Soren’s stories, his past.

He was looking at Soren’s _history_.

His mouth went dry and he frantically glanced around the room at the sheer number of portraits. Somewhere there was a painting that Soren desperately wanted Isaac to see.

But of what? Or who? What could possibly be so important that Soren would go through the trouble of taking Isaac across the sea?

Isaac swallowed and ran his fingers across the brass plate at the bottom, confirming the knight’s name. He moved on to the next painting of three young men dressed in green – Oscar, Boyd and Rolf, according to the nameplate, and another of a sour faced archer and a smiling lance knight.

Painting after painting, Isaac tried to identify the subjects before looking at the nameplates to check his guesses, making something of a game for himself. Soren’s descriptions had been incredibly accurate.

Something caught his eye as he rounded a corner. A mirror? What would a mirror be doing in a gallery? And such a small one at that. Isaac frowned.

He took a few steps closer and froze.

It wasn’t a mirror at all.

It was a portrait.

A small portrait of a Beorc with deep blue eyes and hair to match, lips set in a stoic frown and a deep green band wrapped around his forehead.

Isaac carefully traced that overly familiar jaw line with a shaking hand. The shape of his ears, the thickness of his brows, everything down to the cowlicks in his hair… it was uncanny, unsettling, _uncomfortable_.

He looked… just like Isaac.

Or maybe it was Isaac. While it would be strange for there to be a portrait of him some historical archive, it was even stranger to think that there might have been someone in the past that looked exactly like him.

But the man in the portrait’s hair was longer, darker, his eyes a deeper shade of blue, skin lighter and jaw clenched too tightly to resemble Isaac perfectly. Still, they could have been easily mistaken for twins had they ever the chance to stand side by side.

The longer Isaac stared at the painting the weirder he felt. It felt like he was staring at himself only from a time he couldn’t remember.

Did Soren know this person? Isaac didn’t remember anyone with a matching description from Soren’s stories.

But then again, Soren had almost two hundred years of stories left to tell.

He backed away and turned another corner, ignoring the nameplate and moving on to the next painting. It didn’t take long before he stumbled upon another portrait of his lookalike – a full-body painting with an enormous gold sword, clad in blue and gold.

Isaac shivered.

His lookalike must have been very important because there were at least three more portraits of him at various ages and uniforms alongside other likenesses Isaac recognized from earlier. He tried not to let his gaze linger on any one image as staying still made the uneasy feeling in his stomach grow.

He turned another corner towards the back of the room and nearly tripped over himself at the sight of an enormous painting against the back wall.

There, eight feet tall and dressed in white, was an almost perfect likeness of Soren.

In fact, Isaac was certain that it was Soren – a very young Soren, judging by the gentle curve of his chin and round eyes. He was still beautiful to be sure, but he lacked that confident, regal presence that Isaac had come to associate with Soren. Isaac smiled fondly as he traced his figure with his eyes.

Perhaps this was what Soren wanted to show him?

Isaac backed away slightly so he could get a better view of the entire painting and his smile fell.

Beside the young image of Soren was Isaac’s lookalike, only older, more muscular, covered in scars and wearing armor befitting a rough sort mercenary commander instead of the blue general’s uniform from the other paintings. He stood close to Soren, one arm around Soren’s shoulder, and the other on the hilt of that giant gold sword. He looked stern, but proud to be standing beside Soren, and Soren’s slight smile implied that the feeling was reciprocated.

Strange didn’t even begin to describe the emotions that surged through Isaac’s chest at the sight. The man was obviously important, not just to Crimean history, but to Soren as well. So why couldn’t Isaac put a name to his face like he could with the rest? Soren had described everyone else in such vivid detail, why not this man? Why would Soren go out of his way to hide – no, that wasn’t right. Soren… wasn’t trying to hide anything. In fact, everything Soren did and said led back to that man in the painting. Soren never wanted to simply tell Isaac about him.

Soren wanted Isaac to see him.

“There you are,” Isaac whirled around to see Soren – his Soren – walking towards him.

“Soren…” He said, far more breathless than intended in light of his recent revelation. Soren brushed some hair away from his face and spared a glance at the painting before them.

“I… see you found it.” He said, hands fidgeting with the sash across his hips as if waiting for Isaac to say something. When he didn’t, Soren encouraged him with a bashful murmur, “…What do you think?”

The look Isaac fixed him with could only be described as incredulous outrage.

“What do I –? Soren, why did you bring me here?” Isaac spat with bitterness, “You could have just – I don’t know, _told_ me I looked like someone you used to know. You didn’t have to drag me all the way to Crimea just to show me… _this_.” He knew he was lashing out but damnit all, he was frustrated. What could Soren possibly have hoped to accomplish by showing Isaac some… historical body double? 

To Isaac’s mild surprise, Soren seemed genuinely confused at Isaac’s uncharacteristic outburst. Whatever reaction he had been expecting, anger had apparently not been one of them.

“Actually, I did.” Soren said in a soft, low voice.

“Why?!” Isaac wailed. Would it not have been enough to simply tell him about some guy that looked just like him? At least then Isaac would never have to know exactly how alike their features truly were.

Soren looked up at Isaac with wide, scarlet eyes. He said nothing for a few minutes, letting the sound of the breeze blowing in from the windows fill the air between them.

“Because you’re important to me,” He said, voice shaking and hushed. He swallowed hard, like speaking took all the strength he could muster, “And… so is he.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Important? In what way? Barely a month prior, Soren had tried to leave Isaac behind without so much as a word. How did that make him important?

Or… perhaps he was important because he resembled the man in the painting?

Was that it?

“I wanted you to know – you _deserve_ to know… everything.” Soren’s whispered words echoed throughout the gallery as if they had been screamed and Isaac felt his anger buckle under the weight.

Soren looked so small, so _scared_. His voice held a level of hopeless desperation that made Isaac’s heart constrict in ways he didn’t want to admit.

“Will you listen?” Soren asked the question as if he expected Isaac to refuse.

He almost did.

But Soren’s eyes were honest. Whatever motives he had for bringing Isaac to such a place, they weren’t cruel, Isaac understood that, at least. 

So he nodded, his remaining anger stilling just a tiny bit more at Soren’s deep sigh of relief.

“You might know him as the Hero of the Blue Flame, but… to me, he was just Ike,” Soren smiled a nostalgic and bittersweet smile, “My friend, my family, and… my hope.”

With a deep breath, Soren began to recant the story of his hero.

It didn’t take long for Isaac to recognize it as the same story Soren had disjointedly relayed to him during their journey to Castle Crimea, only this time it wasn’t laid out as a series of broken snapshots. He had wondered why Soren’s storytelling had been so scattered before, attributing it to the fact that details often get lost as time marches on, but listening to Soren speak so eloquently about the past, Isaac realized that the cause for the discrepancy was obvious.

The first tale was without its lead actor – without Ike.

Before him, Soren laid out a carefully charted timeline, each snapshot from his previous tales snapping into place as Ike took center stage commanding armies, saving princesses, taking down generals, tyrants, kings and legends. A horrible jealousy gripped him every time Soren’s features softened as his lips paused to form Ike’s name. Every other sentence bore it proudly, and Soren mouthed it with a unique sort of reverence that made Isaac’s guts twist in unfamiliar knots.

Soren somehow managed to breathe life into a history that Isaac had only ever experienced in the dull pages of sterile textbooks. Every mention of Ike felt like another needle being lodged in his chest, but Isaac found himself deeply tangled in Soren’s words without the will to escape. It felt _real_ – the people, the events; it was like he was there, or had been there. Battles Soren had only mentioned in passing before enveloped him so completely he could nearly smell the thick stench of steel and blood that lingered battlefields.

As Soren neared the end, Isaac was struck by just how different he was from the famed hero – that man who won wars as easily as he won Soren’s heart. In a short span of time, Isaac had somehow gone from hating the idea of Ike to finding himself unable to think ill of him. He was a good, honest man who never asked to be a hero. A man who stood by Soren through everything, who accepted everything without hesitation, who chose Soren over a beloved Queen. Isaac didn’t have the heart to hate a man like that.

Though, he couldn’t really compare to him either. Who was he after all but a sheltered town guard with no real accomplishments to his name save besting his famed swordmaster of a father? He was pathetic in the shadow of Ike.

He looked at Soren’s distant expression and shivered. He seemed so, so far away; there was no was Isaac could reach him. Not now, not ever.

The rational part of Isaac’s mind knew he could reach out and touch the mage without shifting a single step, but his heart couldn’t fathom the mental distance. Isaac could only watch his anger fade to helplessness while he listened to Soren describe the man he could never be.

As the story neared its end, Soren began to falter and eventually fell silent. He wouldn’t provide a proper end to the story, and he didn’t need to. Isaac already knew.

A calm, quiet filled the gallery. A warm, glow from the sunset dyed the room scarlet.

Unable to take the silence, Isaac broke it.

“…Why… why tell me all of this?” Isaac croaked, his previous anger replaced by a miserable sort of calm.

Soren looked at him with an expression blank, and careful. He didn’t respond immediately, seemingly content to stay lost in his reminiscing.

When he finally spoke, Isaac nearly flinched.

“Because you said you loved me.” Soren said slowly, quietly, letting the words sink into Isaac’s chest like a searing blade aimed at his heart.

Isaac swallowed the lump in his throat, but held Soren’s gaze, unable to move.

“…And,” Soren looked away and bit his cheek, “Ike… Ike is such a big part of me and I just…” he looked up at Isaac again, eyes wet and scared.

Scared of what?

“I want you to love him too.” Soren finally whispered as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

 “You… want me to love Ike?” Isaac strained, mulling over each word carefully.

Soren shook his head.

“No not like –” He released a frustrated huff, “I… want you to love the Ike that’s a part of _me_.”

Isaac felt the air rush from his lungs.

“O-oh.” Isaac stammered, “Sorry, I don’t really understand –”

“I love you.” Soren stumbled through his declaration.

The words were so simple, and yet Isaac felt as if a knight had broadsided him with a war hammer.

“You…” Isaac wheezed, “You… w-what?”

“I love you.” Soren said again, this time with more conviction, but no less fear, “Th-that’s why I… wanted you to know about all this… about _Ike._ ”

Isaac’s heart pounded in his throat and his body began to tremble with – dare he think it – hope.

“You… love _me_?” He repeated.

“Is it that surprising?” Soren rubbed the tears from his cheeks with a small frightened smile.

Isaac stared at him, jaw slack and thoughts scattered. Soren loved him – _loved_ him. It was beyond surprising.

It was unbelievable.

_Impossible_.

And yet… it had been said. Soren’s lips had formed the words Isaac had convinced himself he’d never hear, at least not directed at him. But there they were, spoken twice no less in some bizarre twist of implausible fantasy made real.

It was _real._

“Well, I mean, yeah. It is. Surprising that is. I thought –” Isaac fumbled through his mess of thoughts unsuccessfully. He kept tripping over the idea that this was real.

This was _happening_.

“I know what you thought… or rather, I can guess.” Soren’s small smile was shy this time, “It was a shock for me too, when I found out how similar you two look.” He hesitated and Isaac held his breath, “But you know, my feelings were changing long before I knew what you looked like.

Isaac blinked dumbly at the new information.

He’d all but forgotten that Soren hadn’t been able to see much of anything during their time together. It was only after the festival that he…

...Isaac felt pretty stupid. Of course Soren had never compared him to Ike – he hadn’t had any idea what Isaac looked like until recently. If there were any comparisons made they likely weren’t made consciously.

“Oh…” He said with all the eloquence of a shriveled cactus, “That’s right. Your eyes…”

Soren chuckled.

“If I’d have known you looked alike, I would never have gotten close to you.” He admitted, “So, in a way I’m glad I couldn’t see you. Until now.”

At some level, Isaac could understand why. Soren must have been afraid of treating Isaac as a replacement for Ike – no, Soren had been afraid of _replacing_ Ike.

It would have been so easy to treat Isaac as a replacement too. Ike was a common nickname for Isaac, so it wouldn’t have been strange for Soren to call him that. Had Soren never told Isaac about Ike, he could have lived out a fantasy where Ike had overcome his short, Beorc lifespan.

And yet, here they were, Soren laying bare all his history for Isaac to see. It was an action intended to _reassure_ Isaac that Soren was not, in fact, treating him as a replacement.

 “But… that’s why this is hard for me.” Soren jolted Isaac from his thoughts. He slid his hand into Isaac’s and gave his a light squeeze, “I want this. I want… _you._ But I need time.”

Isaac’s heart swelled in awe. Soren… wanted him, wanted to _be something_ with him.

That was enough. Heroes be damned, Soren had decided that Isaac was enough for him – no expectations, no obligations. He could just be Isaac and Soren would be happy with that.

Damnit, Isaac would be happy with that too. He could be patient, he could wait. Soren was worth that and so much more.

“Yeah,” His smile came easier than he expected it to given his inner state of numbness, “Yeah, ok. I got it.”

“…are you sure?” Soren’s question was wary. Isaac gave Soren’s hand a comforting squeeze.

“Yeah. I think I might need that too. Time, I mean.” He said, and meant it. Time would probably be good for both of them, in light of everything.

The smile Soren responded with was wide and brilliant.

“Ok,” He let his head drop against Isaac’s chest, warm relieved breaths seeping into the fabric, “Ok.”

Isaac wound his arms around him, and together they remembered to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now... I can write fluff.
> 
> ...so much fluff.
> 
> And the final scene that I've been dying to write since forever. Hopefully I won't be keeping you guys waiting too long this time. ;)


	9. December - February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it.  
> The chapter you've been waiting for.  
> The one I spent like... three months on and good god I hope it was worth the wait. It's like, 12000 words by itself and contains this one scene I've been dying to write since I started this fic and I'm still not sure I pulled it off all that well... but I hope it squeezes your heart the way it squeezes mine.
> 
> I have so much more to say and yet I have no words in which to say them. I guess you guys will have to be happy with just reading the damn chapter, huh?

The return trip to Arcadia was much like the trip to Crimea, albeit with some slight shifts in the pair’s dynamic.

They spoke less. The air around them buzzed with something thrilling and terrifying yet comforting in a way Isaac had a difficult time identifying. He found himself reaching for Soren from time to time but never closing those last few inches before drawing back. Was he allowed to touch or would that violate Soren’s request for time to sort things out and adjust?   

Isaac wasn’t sure.

So he’d reach for Soren over and over and over again, only to pull away at the last second, scolding himself for being too impatient.

Soren wanted him to wait, so he’d wait.

Simple as that.

They’d barely reached Pinell when the caravan they were traveling with decided that Pinell was the perfect place to settle down and setup shop. Search as they might, there were no caravans heading towards Delbray for weeks and frankly, neither Isaac nor Soren wanted to sit around and wait for one to materialize out of thin air. They set out on foot instead, opting for the steep mountain pass that wagons couldn’t cross in an effort to save time.

Failure to predict the weather left them facing very light rain over the course of several days – not enough to get soaked, but enough to make the rocks slick and unstable. Both men were covered in scrapes and bruises from falling, cursing like sailors as they climbed.

By the third day they’d reached the summit only to find the pitiful road ahead of them had completely washed out. It was nothing but shallow, steep river of mud – towering rock walls on one side, steep cliffs on the other.

Climbing the rock walls in search of another route was impossible. They were too slick and tall to ascend safely. The only option left was to either slide down the muddy road on their backs, or try to slowly shimmy along the rock wall and try not to slip.

Without thinking too much about it, Isaac offered Soren his hand – after all, it was safer to hold on to one another than it was to risk being too far out of reach should one of them slip too close to the edge of the cliff.

Soren didn’t take his hand right away. Instead, he studied his hand like he’d never seen one before. Isaac realized with a fair amount of embarrassment that he was probably overstepping his bounds by asking for Soren’s hand, even if it was just for safety.

He was about to withdraw his offer when he felt Soren’s fingertips slide against his palm. It was cold and damp and Soren’s hands were trembling slightly. From nerves, fear or the cold, Isaac wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help feeling warm inside knowing that Soren was willingly touching him – out of necessity sure, but it was still a step forward.

They made it to Delbray in just over a day, drenched and covered in mud, still holding hands.

The market was beyond crowded the next day and while the boys would have loved to eschew shopping altogether, some of their clothing and boots were in dire need of replacement. After the fourth time losing Soren in the crowd, Isaac offered his hand again.

“So we don’t get separated,” He grumbled.

Soren stared at him motionless until a nearby shopper nearly knocked him into a fruit stand and he grabbed Isaac’s hand instinctively to maintain his balance. A few moments of cursing melted into shy and uncertain mumblings, although Soren didn’t release the hand he was holding. 

“…Is this ok?” Isaac squeezed his hand.

Soren hesitated and took a deep breath.

“Yes. It’s ok.” He said, almost too quietly to be heard amidst the racket of the morning market.

Isaac smiled and let Soren drag him through the crowd.

It became something of a ritual as they continued their journey back home. Isaac would, from time to time, offer Soren his hand whether there was reason to or not. Soren didn’t always take it, but the few times he did felt special.

It was incredible how such a simple thing could make Isaac feel like he was flying.

Although it was nothing compared to the way his heart soared on those rare occasions where Soren offered his hand first.

\-----

“…I still hate boats.” Isaac groaned, peeling his rain-soaked hood away from his hair.

Their last day at sea had been met with a dry, windy storm that followed them all the way to Cambria before turning into a torrential downpour. If being soaked to the bone wasn’t bad enough, every Inn was without vacancies, jam packed with locals and travelers alike looking to escape the rain. This one was no exception.

With their current luck, Soren wouldn’t have been surprised if they ended up with an empty stall in a stable for the night.

“See if you can order us a meal at least. I’ll see about a room.” He said. Isaac managed a grunt before Soren left him to track down the Innkeeper.

It was a difficult task with so many drunken people crammed into one dining area. Soren took several elbows to the chest and nearly took a beer stein to the face before he stumbled into an overworked barmaid who pointed him in the right direction.

He finally found the Innkeeper at the end of the bar, juggling bottles and a ledger while shouting something or other at her husband serving drinks nearby. He pushed through a small crowd of people looking for alcohol and waved her down.

“I need a room,” He shouted above the din.

“Just tonight?” She was shouting from barely a foot away and he could barely make out what she was saying. Soren nodded, “I’ve only got the one. Is that a’right?”

“Anything is fine,” Soren managed to push a small fistful of gold into her hand, and after a few quick scribbles in her ledger she snatched a copper key and handed it to him.

“Second floor, last one on the left,” And with that she left him to fend for himself amongst the raucous throng.

He finally found Isaac huddled in an empty alcove near the fireplace with an enormous tray of food. Soup, meat, soft rolls, and two large mugs of – something liquid. Beer, mead or water, anything would do.

“Barkeep said the rain’ll let up by tomorrow,” Isaac shouted as Soren dropped beside him and tore viciously into a buttered roll.

“Good,” Soren reached for the soup, “Let’s dry everything best we can and leave first thing tomorrow.”

“I never thought I’d be this happy to go back to the desert,” Isaac laughed.

Soren smiled, and let their shoulders touch as they ate.

For warmth, of course.

\-----

As luck would have it, the room they had bought for the night was a bit… smaller than expected.

Not that Soren had anything against a small room. Small rooms were practical, easy to clean, easy to heat and didn’t leave much space for clutter.

This room in particular, however, had one rather small problem.

“So… there’s only one bed,” Isaac said, setting their bags by the door.

“It was the only room they had,” Soren mumbled.

“Right…” Isaac said, quite obviously nervous… or uncomfortable. Soren wasn’t quite sure which.

Perhaps both.

In any case, they had a dry place for the night which was more than Soren hoped for. At the very least they could dry their things by the fire and avoid catching cold.

“Strip,” Soren grumbled, grabbing a chair and moving it in front of the fireplace.

“… _What?!_ ” Isaac’s voiced cracked.

“I want to dry our clothes,” Soren said with a raised brow, “You weren’t… planning to go to sleep like that were you?”

“…No, but –” His eyes flicked to the single bed and back, obviously bothered.

“Then take off whatever’s still wet and give them to me.” Soren began to fumble with his own robes.

He hadn’t meant to sound irritated, but he was starting to panic on the inside. A single bed meant a single sleeping space. They’d either have to take turns or share. It wasn’t as if either of them would consent to letting the other sleep on the hearth instead.

He chewed his lip.

Soren had a hard enough time just holding Isaac’s hand. Sharing a bed – especially while both in a state of undress – was too high a hurdle for him to overcome.

Far too high.

It made him feel slightly better to know that Isaac was probably having similar thoughts. He’d been overly conscious of Soren since they’d left Melior, unsure of exactly where Soren’s boundaries lay and trying far too hard not to cross them. He’d been so thrilled just to get Soren to hold his hand. Sharing a bed was something on another level entirely.

He tried not to think about it and peeled off his outer robes. He draped them over a chair and absently wondered if he was shivering from the cold or his nerves.

Soren caught a glimpse of Isaac from the corner of his eye as he undressed. Even at a distance he could see the goosebumps along his arms from the cold.

He tried to steady his breathing – and by association, his heart – and worked on removing his rain soaked boots.

They would have to share the bed; there was no way around it. Catching cold would set them back days, maybe even a week if they couldn’t find a caravan willing to take a sick man to a branded village. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t slept in close quarters before. They’d never shared a bed proper, but sleeping in bedrolls side by side was similar wasn’t it?

Soren startled when Isaac appeared beside him, wet clothes outstretched.

“…Thanks,” Soren busied himself hanging the rest of their things and tried not to look at Isaac’s bare chest.

They had to share the bed. Soren knew that. He was coming to terms with it; part of him was even anticipating it.

No, he _was_ anticipating it. He wasn’t nervous so much as he was excited about it. He wanted it, wanted to feel Isaac’s skin against his and soak up his warmth while he fell asleep and maybe –

Soren paused.

Not just maybe. It was a definite. Soren definitely wanted something more intimate, and the thought terrified him. It felt like something he shouldn’t want, but at the same time it felt right. Was it too soon to suggest it? It had only been a few weeks since he’d asked Isaac for time to sort his feelings out.

Maybe it was too soon.

But then again, if he didn’t take the first step now, when would he? They’d only be sleeping together – _just…_ sleeping together. At least for tonight. Intimacy could wait. He wasn’t sure if he could take that particular leap yet anyway.

So why was he hesitating?

They were a couple, weren’t they?

He peeked at Isaac again and immediately felt his heartbeat quicken.

Sure his confession had been a bit… vague, but he was certain Isaac had understood his intentions.

And if they were truly a couple – or at least in agreement on becoming one – then sharing a bed should be easy, expected. A good step towards easing into the relationship Soren wanted to have with Isaac.

He couldn’t let his fears and feeling of guilt over Ike hold him back forever. He wanted move forward and this… this was a perfect opportunity to do that.

Finally resolved, he turned to face Isaac who looked twice as uncomfortable as before.

“Hey, I’m gonna go ask for some extra blankets. I can make a bed on the floor so –” Soren’s silence had twisted Isaac into an uneasy knot, fidgeting and glancing at the door. Before he could move, Soren reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

“No, don’t.” He said, not daring to look up from the floor, “It’s… alright. You don’t have to do that. We can…” He licked his lips, “…share.”

When he finally looked up, Isaac’s face was an odd mix of puzzled and flustered.

“…Share…?” He finally managed.  

Soren nodded awkwardly.

Isaac opened and closed his mouth a couple of times at a complete loss for words. Soren felt oddly confident given his state of undress.

“I’d like to try sleeping with you,” Soren said. Isaac coughed out a garbled sort of shriek, and Soren’s eyes widened as he realized how his words may have been interpreted, “Not – not like that! I mean, not now – yet. I just – sleeping. Just sleeping.” Isaac visibly relaxed at the clarification, but his shoulders were far too tense for Soren’s liking.

“Sleeping…” Isaac repeated.

“Sleeping.” Soren confirmed.

Isaac was quiet for a moment. Then, he took Soren’s hand in his and rubbed the back with his thumb a few times, deep in thought.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” He said, eyes fixated on their joined hands. Soren’s heart leapt into his throat, a reaction to the mild panic coiling in his stomach.

“…Why not?” He asked, voice low, hesitant.

Isaac swallowed hard and squeezed Soren’s hand.

“Soren, I,” Isaac began, but faltered. His brow furrowed, unsure of what to say and Soren wasn’t so sure if he really wanted to hear it.

He let the silence fill the room instead.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get any sleep if you’re next to me,” Isaac mumbled.

“…Why not?” Soren raised his brow.

“Because,” Isaac whined, “There’s no way I’ll be able to fall asleep knowing that you’re right beside me and I can’t –” his cheeks were red when he cleared his throat, “–touch you.”

Soren felt the blood rush straight to his cheeks.

“Touch me,” Soren repeated, rolling the words around on his tongue, tasting it, “But you’re touching me right now.” He said, eyes flicking down to their joined hands. Isaac released a flustered breath.

“I know but – this is different, I want to…” Isaac reached for Soren’s free hand, then fixed him with a steady gaze, “Soren, I _really_ want to touch you like…” He fumbled for words he couldn’t find, but the implication was enough to make Soren’s breath catch in his chest.

“I know I can’t yet – not the way I want to, anyway. You asked for time, and I want to give that to you.” Isaac said, voice growing weaker the more he spoke.

Soren could scarcely believe his ears. Sure it was a vague suggestion, but it was promising.

Soren’s remaining anxiety shifted into anticipation.

Perhaps skipping a step or two in their relationship was necessary. He’d been able to ease into things slowly with Ike; to flirt and dance around the idea of romance. They had time to explore their feelings slowly, to adjust to the concept of love.

But Isaac was different. Isaac didn’t have years of friendship on hand to guarantee Soren’s presence at his side. He had to bet it all, throw his cards on the table and pray that his gamble was enough to keep him in the game, or lose it all. He was young, clumsy, inexperienced and desperate to hold on to the only love he’d ever known.

Isaac was more afraid of making a mess of things than Soren had ever been. But Soren could ease those fears. One line – one word – and Soren could put Isaac’s heart at ease.

So he said it.

“You can touch me.” Soren smiled, surprising the both of them with how easily the words slipped out of his mouth. The incredulous look on Isaac’s face was almost enough to make him laugh, but he didn’t.

“I can… what? No. No, Soren, listen; I want to… _touch_ you – a lot more than _this_.” Isaac stressed as he gently squeezed their hands.

Soren let out an amused sort of snort and moved closer.

“I know,” Soren said, holding Isaac’s flustered gaze, “It’s ok. I… I want you to.” His pulse thrummed at the admission, excitement prickling his skin.

Isaac released one of Soren’s hands and brought his own to hover near Soren’s jaw – stopping just short of touching.

“Are you sure?” Isaac asked, his voice cracked with mixture of disbelief and awe, “Can I…?”

“Do as you like,” Soren pressed his cheek against Isaac’s hovering palm, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Isaac rubbed Soren’s cheek with his thumb let out a breathless, amazed laugh.

“Really…” He stared at Soren in awe, “You’re really ok with this?” It was less a question, and more of a confirmation, “You can’t take it back you know?” This time, Soren really did laugh.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said staring back into blazing blue eyes elated at how right it felt to be so close.

“Then...” He murmured as he leaned in close, “Can I kiss you?”

“ _Yes._ ” Soren breathed.

Isaac smiled and pressed his lips to Soren’s.

It was sweet, soft and gentle, not at all like the hungry, heady kiss from the festival. Isaac was cautious, barely moving against him and yet it was enough to steal the breath from Soren’s lungs. It was nostalgic but also fresh, chaste in nature, but somehow laced with a faint promise of _more more more_.

Soren wanted more.

He felt Isaac’s lips trembling against him, so endearing in their honesty that he couldn’t help but sneak a taste with the tip of his tongue. Isaac met him halfway, parting his lips and curling his fingers in Soren’s hair as he pulled him closer. Heart racing and feeling a bit bold Soren slid his leg between Isaac’s and wrapped his free hand around that broad, muscled back.

Soren released a deep, contented sigh the instant Isaac’s tongue slid against his. The slow pace was maddening, but he couldn’t bring himself to hasten it. Isaac’s tongue was delicious and soothing, intoxicating enough to make Soren whimper whenever he lost contact. He chased it with his own, trying to coax some kind of sound from Isaac with each painstakingly slow lick.

Without warning Isaac pulled back, dazed and erect against Soren’s thigh.

“How,” Isaac tried to steady his breathing, “How much can I…?” It took Soren a long moment to process the unfinished question.

“I don’t know,” He said, equally out of breath. In truth he wasn’t sure how far he could go, although he had an idea what his body was up for. Best to leave himself an escape route, just in case, “I’ll tell you if we need to stop.”

Isaac let his head fall against Soren’s shoulder with a long, frustrated groan.

“…Ok,” Isaac sucked in a breath against Soren’s neck, “Ok… fuck, I want you so bad.”

Whatever remaining anxiety or guilt Soren had been feeling melted away in an instant, replaced with a pounding heart and limbs trembling for all the right reasons.

He could do this. In fact, he wanted this. They both did.

Soren pulled Isaac back towards the bed, that small look of confusion turning to lustful anticipation in a matter of seconds as Soren lay beneath him on the mattress. Isaac’s eyes never left his, even as the mage fingered the ties of Isaac’s damp pants.

“Come here.” He whispered against Isaac’s ear.

Isaac shuddered and wordlessly obeyed.

He impatiently bent down to steal a kiss, straddling Soren and pinning the mage beneath him. Soren’s hands slid up his bare, chest, relishing the feel Isaac’s pounding heart against his fingertips. He sighed into the kiss and let his hands roam along the warmth of Isaac’s back.

Isaac took that as an invitation to lower his hips, propping himself up on his elbows and grinning into the kiss when a pair legs slowly slid along his hips; a sultry suggestion.

“You,” Isaac murmured between small, wet kisses, “are wearing way too much clothing.”

Soren laughed against his lips.

“Help me out, then.” Soren taunted, curling his fingers into Isaac’s scalp and receiving a deep groan in response.

Isaac wasted no time peeling that tight cotton shirt off of Soren and tossing it over the side of the bed. He nuzzled Soren’s neck, tongue peeking out to taste faint traces of salt and rainwater. Large calloused hands disappeared beneath Soren’s head as his fingers tangled themselves in dark, silky hair.

As Isaac pulled back to catch his breath, he paused, eyes dazedly roaming over Soren’s half nude figure and fingers halting their movement unexpectedly.

His face was blank.

Soren felt that familiar panic creep back into his stomach. A million doubts and fears assaulted his mind as those blue eyes stared back at him. His worries must have shown on his face because Isaac shook himself of his trance-like state and his face immediately softened into bashfulness.

“…What’s wrong?” Soren managed to ask, afraid of the answer. Isaac’s cheeks grew pink and a small nervous smile split his lips in two.

“Nothing, I just… um,” He swallowed, “I’ve uh… never done this before?” His voice cracked.

Soren let out a deep, deep sigh of relief. Isaac hadn’t suddenly realized he was straight. He was just a virgin; of course he’d be nervous.

“…Never?” He asked. Isaac shook his head, “With a man, or…?”

“At all,” Isaac mumbled a bit embarrassed, “I’ve never been interested.”

 “Right. You… did say something like that, didn’t you…?” Soren averted his gaze and let his hands drop, “Do you um, want to stop?”

“No!” Isaac exclaimed a bit too loudly, “Goddess, Soren, no. I just… don’t know what to do… You know?” Isaac’s face was beet red and somewhat mortified.

Soren bit the inside of his cheek. He was nervous.

Given Isaac’s lack of experience, perhaps it would be better if Soren took the lead instead. It wasn’t something he did often – Ike had been an exceptionally dominant partner after all and it wasn’t as though he’d been with anyone else; but it had still been nearly a hundred years since Soren’s last encounter. He wasn’t confident that he could do it all that well.

Then again, would Isaac know any different? He had no experience, after all.

He pushed on Isaac’s chest, gently rolling the swordsman onto his back. Soren mounted him and ignored the deafening echo of his heartbeat as he stared down at Isaac’s bewildered expression.

“Then tonight… let me be the one to touch you instead.” He said with all the confidence he could muster. Isaac stared at him wide-eyed and nodded enthusiastically.

Soren leaned down for another kiss and Isaac accepted it eagerly. One kiss became two, then three and when the fourth one came Isaac’s fingers were roaming around his waist. Soren lowered his weight onto Isaac’s hips and swallowed the groan the larger man gave him as their erections pressed against each other.

Slowly he rolled his hips, relishing Isaac’s loud moans and the sweet, sweet bursts of pleasure coursing through his dick.

“Shit, Soren,” Isaac gasped.

It would be easy to let himself get lost in Isaac’s kisses, but Soren had other plans. Those plans required a clear head so reluctantly, he pulled back.

Isaac tried to pull him in for another kiss, but Soren stopped him.

“Let me,” He said licking the remaining sweetness off his wet lips. Isaac furrowed his brow in confusion when Soren slid off of him, but his pants were on the floor, his cock dripping in the cool night air and that sneaky mage was between his thighs.

“What are you doing?” Isaac asked warily. Soren shot him a mischievous glance and tried to steady his trembling hands.

“Something you’ll like,” He said huskily.

“But what about y–” Isaac started.

“Just focus on feeling good, ok?” Soren’s soft breath warmed Isaac’s cock. He swallowed his protests and gripped the sheets in an effort to keep himself still.

Isaac was large and hot beneath his fingertips; so large that his fingers barely touched when he curled them around the base and slowly began to stroke him. It only took a couple gentle pumps before Isaac was arching his back and groaning

Encouraged, he pressed that impressive dick back against its bed of curls and palmed it, avoiding the glistening cock head tucked safely beneath a layer of skin. He pressed his lips against Isaac’s ball sack relishing the blistering heat it gave off and its thick, musky scent. He ran the flat of his tongue along its girth and _sucked._

Isaac bucked his hips, dripping cock springing free of Soren’s hand, but his testicles still tucked safely in the slick of Soren’s mouth. Isaac swore incoherently as Soren sucked each ball in turn, rolling them around on his tongue until they were dripping in sweat and spit. He swapped his tongue for his fingers and nibbled along the base of his steaming penis. Each gasp from Isaac’s throat filled Soren with arousal and pride in equal parts and urged him to go further – to take more.

He licked and nipped his way along Isaac’s dick, sucking veins as he went. He tugged at his foreskin with his lips and rolled Isaac’s balls in his free hand while the other curled round the base for short, tight pumps.

“Fuck, Soren. Fuck, just… fuck. Ah!” Isaac was begging for something and Soren knew what it was – although he wasn’t in any hurry to give it to him. One hand still on Isaac’s cock, Soren sucked on his finger until it was good and wet.

It was something he’d used to do for Ike. While they rarely switched roles – Soren preferring to be held and Ike eager to pound him into the nearest surface – Ike had always enjoyed Soren’s fingers. He didn’t enjoy being stretched out wide enough his lover’s dick, but having a couple of slim, nimble fingers curling into all the right places always had him writhing.

Soren hoped Isaac’s reaction would be along the same lines.

He slid his finger down to Isaac’s puckered hole and pushed against it – just enough pressure to feel good but not enough to enter. He circled it, round and round, applying pressure here and there.

Isaac tried to say something, but Soren’s lips kissed the cum-soaked head of Isaac’s cock and the words dissolved into a garbled moan. With practiced ease, he slid his tongue beneath the foreskin and swirled it round the hyper sensitive skin all the while kneading his asshole with that spit slicked finger.

Isaac howled into the pillow.

Soren grinned and pushed the foreskin down with his lips finally allowing that slippery cock head into the heat of his mouth. There was no way to take more than a third of Isaac’s impressive length so Soren fisted him and began to pump and suck in rhythm.

Isaac thrashed beneath him, panting, swearing, sweating and feeling so damn good that he didn’t even flinch when Soren’s finger slid inside his ass. He spread his legs wide and gripped the bed sheets, Soren’s name punctuating his every breath.

Soren pulled off Isaac’s penis with a wet pop just long enough to catch his breath and slipped a second finger inside. He kissed the tip again and got back to work, curling the fingers in his ass as he went, high on that heady scent of salt and sex.

Isaac’s moans grew quicker as Soren sucked him. One hand finally detached from the sheets and found its way into Soren’s hair, trying not to tug. It was enough to get his attention and when Soren finally did look up he was greeted with glazed blue eyes and a blissed out smile beautiful enough to make Soren’s neglected dick twitch. He ignored it, but tried to hold Isaac’s hazy gaze as he bobbed along his dripping member.

Isaac was close, and Soren knew it. His balls were tight and twitching and his head was thrown back. Sweat glistened on his thighs and dribbled down his chest. Salty precum coated Soren’s tongue with a taste he’d long since forgotten. He relished every drop. The curl of his fingers had Isaac arching off the bed and bucking deep into Soren’s throat. He tightened his grip on the base of Isaac’s cock and pumped faster and faster, completely out of sync with his mouth but he doubted Isaac noticed – or cared. He was too far gone.

The orgasm came without warning but it came hard and it came fast. Load after load of thick, creamy fluid Soren swallowed without complaint. That pink swollen pucker clenched and twitched around his fingers. Isaac’s balls shuddered, and the room echoed with his deep vibrating groans, one hand fisting Soren’s hair.

He continued to buck, twitch and gasp as Soren pulled his fingers from his ass and sucked the last few drops of cum from Isaac’s spent and wilting member. He maassaged the base gently as Isaac came down from his high.

Soren sat back, proud and pleased, appreciating Isaac’s wrecked, naked body. He wanted to lick that happy trail all the way back up to Isaac’s neck but… that would have to wait for another time.

There would certainly be one. He smiled at the thought.

“Fuck,” Isaac swore between huge gulps of air, “Fuck, just,” another gasp, “what the fuck was that…”

It wasn’t really a question. Soren licked his lips like a smug cat and crawled up the length of Isaac’s body to lay beside him. Isaac threw an arm around him and buried his face in Soren’s hair, content to just breathe him in for a while.

Soren was still painfully hard but he couldn’t bring himself to address it. He was happy curled against Isaac, proud that he could make him feel good. In light of that it was difficult to care about his own needs.

The moment was perfect enough as it was. He was happy. Somehow he’d expected to feel guilty, or regretful, but… he didn’t. Erection aside, he felt pleased and fulfilled, content to fall asleep without another word, lest he spoil the delicate mood.

But Isaac, it seemed, had other ideas.

“Hey,” He croaked, “What about you?” Soren opened one eye to glare at him, then closed it and burrowed deeper into the crook of Isaac’s neck.

“Later.” He mumbled.

“But you didn’t –” Isaac protested.

“You can return the favor when we get back.” Soren said. Isaac rubbed his back absentmindedly.

“Is… that ok? It doesn’t seem fair that I got to and you didn’t…” He trailed off. Soren pulled back enough to look at his face and huffed.

“Next time,” Soren said firmly. He pressed a light kiss to his lips and then re-burrowed back into the crook of Isaac’s neck, “Now shut up and sleep.” He may have been uncomfortable being the only one to receive, but Isaac chuckled and placed another kiss on top of Soren’s head all the same.

“…Ok,” He said fondly, “Goodnight, Soren.”

\-----

It had been a week since he and Isaac had returned to Arcadia, and they’d barely seen each other. Unexpected rain made for a lot of commotion in a desert village, and Isaac had been roped into helping Stefan with various tasks around the village shortly after they arrived.

In truth, their separation was Soren’s fault. Isaac owed his fellow guards a lot of favors since they had covered for him while he was off traveling, and now those favors were being called in. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other at all. Isaac usually tried to visit Soren late at night when work was done, but he rarely managed to stay awake long enough to have even a short conversation. More than once Isaac fell asleep in the main room in front of the fire, and Soren would grab some blankets and curl up next to him.

It was a bit lonely, but the mornings were sweet and made the long days spent alone worthwhile.

In many ways it reminded him of his life with Ike shortly after they settled in Arcadia. Busy days, comfortable nights and leisurely mornings.

He sighed, stepping off the main forest path and onto a hidden trail.

It felt strange to smile as he passed wards and markers that he had carved into the trees long ago. Visits to Ike’s grave had always been somber occasions, even on the best days.

Perhaps it was a sign he was healing.

He felt the magical barrier prickling at his skin – a reminder that he was entering sacred grounds. This was his place; his and Ike’s. Soren had crafted the barrier to refuse passage to anyone else who may try to enter. It was a safeguard against those who would defile the hero’s grave – providing they knew where it was in the first place. Stefan knew roughly where it was. He’d helped with the burial, protected the gravesite while Soren traveled to Serenes in order to acquire the blessed willow tree. He’d called it a foolish errand. No tree – blessed or otherwise – would grow on the barren ledge where Ike rested. But Soren ignored him, planted the tree, tended to it like a child.

Not only had that tree grown fast and strong, but an entire forest had grown around it. A beautiful maze of protection for his lost love. A testament to everything that was good in Soren’s life.

He smiled.

As the silver willow came into view, Soren relaxed and tried to release the emotions he’d been suppressing. They came slowly, undulating waves of nostalgia, longing, and acceptance. He let himself feel everything he’d been bottling up for so many years; everything he’d buried beneath layers of guilt and grief.

He drew fingers down smooth bark and traced the marks he’d carved one at a time; a familiar ritual in place of a greeting. He lingered on the ninety ninth mark then sat down, back against the tree, and looked skyward through shimmering hoary leaves.

Birds sang in the distance though there were none within his barrier. He’d never noticed how unnatural the near-silence felt. More unnatural still now that he was facing what was left of Ike, the words he’d wanted to say forgotten.

Absently, he picked at the grass.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He said after a long period of silence, “Last time I was here I thought the world was ending. Or at least, I wanted it to end,” He drew his knees to his chest, “That was the first time I’d thought of dying since… since you left.”

He leaned his head back against the trunk as his mind drifted back to that night at the festival. Isaac’s lips were hot against his and the world had spun round and round and round… until it all crashed down around him. His fear of forgetting Ike; that his feelings were weak enough to be swayed by a near stranger.

In a way his feelings for Ike had defined who he was. He thought that if he didn’t have that, then what did he have? What would be the point in his existence if not for the one he loved most?

He knew better now.

“You know I… never really understood what you meant when you asked me to live for myself. A hundred years later and I’m only now beginning to understand…” He chuckled, “I thought I was the strategist between us, and yet… you were always one step ahead of me. You always knew what I needed long before I did. Now that I’m finally doing what you asked me to, I’m… I’m really happy.”

It felt good to admit it out loud. He was happy, he truly was. There were lingering feelings of guilt, feeling good when Ike wasn’t there to feel it with him, but he was getting better. He was living for himself – or at least, he was learning to.

“But what about you, Ike? Did you ever live for yourself?” Soren’s throat grew tight, “You were always helping others… you were needed by others. First the mercenaries, then a princess, a king, an empress, a goddess… and when that was all over you were needed by me. Were you… living for yourself when you were helping us? Or were you living for us? I’d… never thought about it before now.”

Soren ran his hands through the grass.

“Micaiah says that you’re a part of me now. Even if it’s not true I want to believe it. That way, while I’m living for myself, you can too… if… only through me.”

He wanted it to be true, more than he believed it to be. The idea that the happier he made himself, the happier Ike would be was comforting. It eased his fears, made the idea of moving on easier to swallow.

And Soren really did feel like he was moving forward. He’d made more progress in one year than he had in the last ninety-nine combined.

Ike would be proud of him.

“I’ve finally made some peace with my past – I know you’d be happy to hear that – and I feel like I can finally move forward. I’ve… I’ve even met someone who makes me really happy. I didn’t think it was possible, but here we are.” He smiled as thoughts of Isaac flit through his mind.

“He’s a lot like you, but at the same time he’s very different. You and I… we… by the time we were his age we’d already seen the worst this world had to offer. It’s… a pain you never get rid of. Even as time passes it stays with you… scars you. We had so many scars, Ike. But Isaac… he’s not haunted like we are – were. Sometimes when I look at him I wish that you could have felt as free and hopeful as he does. You of all people deserve that.”

He let his legs extend outwards in front of him and watched the sun peer through the branches. War seemed so far away at moments like these.

“You’d like him, I think. He looks just like you – you could have been twins,” Soren’s laughter faded into wistful silence, “He makes me happy, Ike. He really, really does.”

Soren squeezed his eyes shut and willed his throat to relax. It wasn’t time for tears, not yet. There were still things he needed to say.

A truth he had to face definitively.

The sun turned the leaves a faint shade of pink as it started to set.

“Ike,” Soren’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, “I loved you more than anything in the world. I still do. I always will. But I… I love Isaac too,” There was no point in fighting back his tears, so he let them roll down his cheeks, “He makes me feel like… the future isn’t something to be afraid of. Whatever future I have left, I want to spend it with him. And you too. I want you to spend that future with us as a part of me. I want you to love him as much as I love both of you.”

Soren’s shoulders shook lightly as he cried hot painful tears. It hurt to say the words out loud, but he meant them. Maybe it was ridiculous to say this to a grave – to a tree, but it had to be done. They had to be said.

“I miss you,” Soren rubbed his eyes and sniffed, “I wish – I wish I could see you again. Just once. Just long enough to show you that I’m living my life the way you always wanted me to. Just long enough to tell you I love you. That I’m happy now and it’s all because of you.”

He sucked in a breath so deep it hurt and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Ike, I –”

“Soren?”

Soren’s eyes snapped open, stray tears forgotten as a hauntingly familiar figure parted the veil of leaves.

Broad shoulders, a shock of blue hair and eyes like evening skies peering out below a length of deep green cotton.

“Ik – Isaac!?” He rasped.

How was he here? It shouldn’t be possible. His barrier prevented anyone except him and Ike from entering… how had Isaac crossed it?

Soren’s mind spun with the possibilities

“Hey,” Isaac looked a little uncomfortable, but he wore a lopsided grin, “What are you doing here?”

Soren gaped at him, mouth ajar.

“What am I…? How can…? What are _you_ doing here…?” He sputtered and hastily rubbed his wet cheeks dry. Isaac extended his hands to help Soren to his feet.

“What kind of question is that? I’m looking for you,” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Micaiah said she saw you head into the woods. Never thought I’d find you here though. I thought I was the only one who knew about this old willow.”

Soren felt the wind leave him like a punch to the gut.

“You’ve…” Soren gasped, “…been here before?” Isaac frowned and pulled Soren to his feet with ease.

“Well… yeah. I mean, this is my secret spot. My hideout from when I was a kid. Used to come here when I wanted to be alone. I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place,” He said with a shrug. Soren continued to stare at him, eyes searching for answers to questions he didn’t know how to word, “…You ok?”

Soren startled and shook himself from his trance-like state.

“Huh? Y-yes. Yes, I’m fine, I… I didn’t expect to see you here. That’s all.” He rubbed a reddened cheek with his sleeve and sucked in a quick breath.

“You sure? Your eyes are red.” Isaac brushed Soren’s hand away and rubbed his cheek with his thumb.

Soren let out a humorless laugh, tried to make a joke about his eyes always being red, or at least say _something_ but nothing would come out. His throat was swollen shut, his eyes burned and staring back at Isaac’s deeply concerned face made everything feel so much worse.

He let his head drop against Isaac’s chest, and bit back the new wave tears threatening to fall.

It wasn’t sadness that swirled within him. Not anger, or guilt. On the contrary, his chest was bursting with relief and an unfamiliar sort of giddiness that left him a trembling mess.

His mind finally caught up with him

Isaac had crossed his barrier.

Isaac had _crossed_ his _barrier._

And not just once; multiple times over the span of maybe ten years. Easily, effortlessly, like he was permitted, like the barrier was created with him in mind.

Like he was…

Ike.

But no, that was impossible… wasn’t it? Ike had spoken those words in jest, a comforting lie to convince Soren to keep living. He wouldn’t find a way to return from the dead. He couldn’t.

But then…

What if he had? What if somehow Ike’s soul had found its way back to earth? What if Isaac and Ike were one and the same, at least at their core? At their heart?

But even if that were true, Isaac was not Ike, and Ike was not Isaac. They shared a stunning likeness but there were some physical differences at least. Their memories weren’t the same, neither were their experiences, their wishes, hopes, dreams… No, they were certainly different people regardless of whether or not they shared a soul – if that was even possible.

Although, if they didn’t share the soul then… perhaps letting Isaac pass through the barrier unharmed and undeterred was Ike’s way of recognizing Isaac as a kindred spirit. Someone who had the potential to love the one Ike loved with everything he had.

Perhaps Isaac’s presence here was a symbol of Ike’s blessing; a sort of forgiveness, permission, or confirmation that it was ok for Soren to move forward.

After all, Ike’s greatest wish was for Soren to be happy.

And he was.

As hot joyful tears began to fall, Soren half-laughed half-sobbed into Isaac’s tunic, clinging to him like he never wanted to let go.

Isaac awkwardly wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer.

“Hey,” He crooned, “Hey, it’s ok. I… don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m not going anywhere, ok? I promise.”

Soren laughed and stared up at him smiling broadly through his tears.

“I know. I know,” He whispered hoarsely.

Soren cupped his cheeks and kissed him.

\-----

The night air was warm and balmy. Barely any breeze beyond what was needed to rustle the grass where Soren and Isaac were sitting, having opted to eat dinner outside for a change.

It was quiet too. Somewhat unusual for Arcadia, but Soren’s house was secluded in the outskirts where the din of the village rarely reached. The sounds cicadas and the occasional owl were comforting in its place.

Soren closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of meat and spices. He allowed himself relax, content, full and in the best of company.

“You know,” Isaac said between bites of pecan pie, “You never did tell me what you were doing at the willow.”

Soren smiled and turned towards him.

“I was paying Ike a visit.” He said, reaching over to steal a candied pecan from Isaac’s plate. Isaac paused mid-chew to stare at him.

“…Ike?” He repeated warily. Soren hummed in confirmation, rolling the sweet nut along his tongue, “As in… Ike – Ike?” Soren snorted at the description.

“Yes, Ike – Ike.” He swiped another pecan, and chewed it before continuing, “I planted that willow tree where he was buried.” Isaac swallowed.

“Are you telling me that my secret hideout has been a grave this entire time?!” He screeched, nearly dropping his plate.

“It would seem so.” Soren plucked the plate from his hands and set it down with the rest.

Isaac buried his face in his hands and groaned while Soren laughed at him.

“Hey, it’s ok, Isaac. He likes you.” He rubbed Isaac’s back.

“Now how would you know that?” Isaac snatched the rest of the pie and shoved it in his mouth. It was childish, but endearing.

Soren’s expression grew soft and shy. He mulled Isaac’s question over, testing the feel of the words he wanted to say in response.

They felt heavy, but they felt right.

He steadied himself and caught Isaac’s eyes with his own.

“Because I love you,” Soren said softly, “S-so he’d like you too – at the very least.”

Isaac gaped at him, one cheek stuffed with dessert, mouth slightly open, wide-eyed and frozen in place.

Seconds felt like minutes before bewilderment started melting into disbelief. Soren was nervous, trembling, but he couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute it was to watch Isaac try and fail to form words while looking like an overgrown squirrel.

“Sh-shoren –” Isaac slurred though a mouthful.

“Chew,” Soren chided. He fiddled with the edge of his robes while Isaac swallowed, nearly jumping when Isaac swooped in close and fixed him with a steady probing stare.

“Say it again,” He said. There was a tremor in his voice that replaced Soren’s nervous tension with pleasant chills.

“He’d like you,” Soren teased, a little bashful. He knew what Isaac wanted him to say, but saying it once was already difficult. He needed to calm down before he tried to say it again.

“The part before that – _please_.” Isaac hovered over him, moving closer and closer. Isaac’s face was close – too close to look anywhere but deep into blue, blue eyes. Soren eased back on his elbows then down onto his back in the thin grass. Isaac arched over him, caging him between muscled arms.

It was Soren’s turn to be rendered speechless. It hadn’t been easy to say the words he felt, but Isaac’s steady pressure redoubled their meaning and suddenly it felt twice as difficult to repeat them.

“…You first,” Soren averted his gaze as best he could at close proximity.

“I love you,” Isaac spoke without hesitation, without any trace of doubt. His blue eyes melted into red, “Soren, _please._ Say it again.”

He grazed Soren’s cheek with his fingertips and Soren melted. Difficult or no, he’d say them a million times if Isaac looked at him like that.

“I love you,” Soren whispered. Isaac’s sweet breath fanned his lips. One small move and they’d be kissing.

“Again,” Isaac’s voice cracked but it lost none of its conviction.

“I love you,” Their lips brushed as he spoke. Thick fingers slid through his hair.

“Again,” Soren laughed and brought their lips together, hands on Isaac’s cheeks as they kissed – soft, slow and sweet.

He realized Isaac was crying only when the first trace of salt hit his tongue. He wiped stray tears with his thumbs and pulled back just enough to call Isaac’s name – but the words caught in his throat.

Isaac was beautiful. Faint traces of tears glistened in the light of the moon just barely visible over his shoulder. Honest eyes and a heartbreaking smile took root in Soren’s heart and shook his whole body.

Admiration turned to bashfulness, and bashfulness quickly dissolved into nervous delighted giggles. Isaac nuzzled Soren’s neck smearing tears as he went.

Soren wrapped his arms around his back, laughing and laughing until there was nothing left in his body but a deep, aching desire to draw Isaac closer – to breathe him in until he filled whatever empty spaces Soren had left in his heart.

Isaac’s hands began to roam down his sides, his back and his hips. He mouthed the length of Soren’s throat, chasing his giggles and delighting in the sharp gasp that he got instead. Their bodies clothed and flush against each other, desiring friction but denying it all the same. Teeth scraped his neck, followed by a light nip and a powerful suck that had Soren arching his body against Isaac’s involuntarily.

“Isaac,” Soren keened between needy gasps, “Wait – stop, just –” Isaac pulled back long enough for Soren to catch his breath, “Take me to bed.”

Isaac wasted no time with questions. He scooped Soren up into his arms and went inside, dodging kisses and furniture alike.

The bedroom was dark, barely any moonlight slipping through the curtains but it hardly mattered to the two of them. Both focused on feeling, neither opening their eyes for long even when Isaac laid Soren on the mattress and pinned him there, nestled securely between his legs.

Isaac needed no instructions this time. His hands were already hard at work peeling layers of belts and robes off of the man beneath him, desperate for a taste of bare skin. He was unexpectedly confident this time around and Soren was more than happy to let him lead. He let himself be stripped bare, stealing kisses when he could. He hungrily drank in the sight of Isaac’s naked form as he shed his shirt, reveling in rich caramel skin lit only by the moon.

Isaac curled over him, clothed erection flush against Soren’s bare ass as he licked his lips. It was predatory, lustful. Soren’s cock twitched in interest as Isaac bent him in half and it slid against those rock hard abs.

Soren lay beneath him, exposed and vulnerable, waiting and willing to be devoured.

Suddenly that tongue was in his mouth, teeth against his lips, stealing what little breath Soren had with a fervor that swelled in his lower half and had him begging for more.

Isaac was hard – so hard, steaming hot and wet against Soren’s ass even through the thick cotton of his pants. The head pressed against Soren’s balls every time Isaac rolled his hips; just enough pressure to leave Soren wanting.

“ _Isaac_ …” What was intended to be the start to an order came off as a breathy whine, but Soren was undeterred. His hands found their way into Isaac’s pants only to be stopped.

“Let me,” Isaac whispered. He pinned Soren’s wrists to the bed with one hand and nipped at his neck. Soren growled, “I want to make you feel good.” The blue fire in his eyes was swallowed by blown pupils.

“I’d feel a lot better if you were naked,” Soren squirmed beneath him. Isaac chuckled. Where had this newfound confidence come from? Soren liked it, but it was a far cry from the writhing virgin of a week prior.

“Later,” He pressed his free hand to Soren’s cock and _stroked_.

Soren threw his head back and moaned. It felt good, so, _so good_. His hand was clumsy but the pressure was just enough to make intense blissful sensations ripple through his dick.

He arched his back and yelped when Isaac’s mouth unexpectedly clamped on his nipple and sucked.

“Ah… ah... ah – hah!” Soren tried to call his name but could do no more than gasp. Isaac pumped his dick already slick with pre-cum and sweat, squeezing the base and sliding his foreskin up and down and up and down and goddess if he kept that up, Soren was going to –

“I-I-Isaac…! Wait, I –” Soren keened. His balls tensed and swelled. Isaac noticed and quickened his pace.

“Go ahead,” Isaac licked his lips and dove back down for the other nipple.

He could feel Isaac’s cock straining against his ass. He wanted it – goddess, he wanted it so badly. His hole ached to be stretched. To be filled. To have that fat, clumsy dick fuck him roughly into the mattress until he was too far gone to feel anything else.

But that hand on his dick felt so good; hot and sweaty just tight enough to milk him.

“Isaac… Isaac…!” Soren gasped. His balls twitched, heat pooling in the base of his dripping dick while that huge hand pumped him, “Ah… ah, please, _Isaac –_ ”

 And he was cumming.

He shot between them, eyes shut, mouth open, body quivering with as Isaac coaxed spurt after spurt of cum from him. He forgot how to breathe. How to feel. His whole body was numb with satisfaction. 

Isaac kissed him deeply. He ground his hips against Soren’s ass and spent as he was, Soren wanted to go again.

Once he could feel his limbs again.

“Good?” Isaac nuzzled his cheek.

“ _Yes_ ,” He smiled, “But _these_ ,” Soren tugged at Isaac’s pants, “Have got to come off now.”

“I can wait you know,” Isaac reluctantly pulled back and shimmied them off, cock popping free of its confines and looking decidedly delicious.

“Yes, well I can’t,” Soren slicked his fingers with his own fluid and slipped them between his legs. Isaac chuckled, too pre-occupied with his pants to notice what Soren was doing.

“You’re not even hard yet,” He said.

Soren hissed in delight as his first finger slid easily inside him.

“I don’t need to be hard for this,” He said.

“What do you mean you don’t need to be hard for thi –” Isaac swallowed as he turned his attention back to his cryptic lover and gawked, “Wh-what are you doing?” Soren spread his legs wider and slipped another cum-slicked finger inside his throbbing ass.

“Stretching,” Fingers spread his hole open just a little wider.

“…F-for…?” Isaac was trying not to look and failing miserably. Soren huffed.

“This,” Soren pressed his toes to Isaac’s stiff dick, “Obviously.”

Isaac stared at him blankly.

“You’re not a woman,” He touched the hand fingering his ass. Soren scowled.

“Did you want me to be?” He spread himself open wider.

“No!” Isaac’s response was immediate, “No, I just… didn’t realize we could…” He looked lost, but eager.

“Isaac,” Soren beckoned, sitting up just enough to pull Isaac towards him, “Don’t you want to come inside me?” He purred. Isaac shivered.

“Can I?” He croaked.

“Yes,” Soren kissed his palm then dragged those calloused fingers through what was left of his release, “Start with these.”

The uncertainty was back and along with it Isaac’s previous hesitations. Slowly, he pressed a slicked finger passed Soren’s stretched entrance.

Soren groaned. Isaac’s fingers were much thicker than his and the added girth was welcomed. He rocked against it, a silent encouragement for Isaac to move. He got the message, slowly at first, sliding in and out, then curling his digit and watching in raw fascination as Soren arched off the bed.

“Another,” Soren gasped. And then there were two. It stung only slightly, the obscene feel of his ass being stretched by a hand that wasn’t his only made him greedy for more. He bucked his hips, an attempt to fuck himself on Isaac’s digits. Isaac had other plans.

Confidence restored, he pushed as far in as he could go and finger fucked him with quick shallow motions. Soren moaned. His dick was erect again, bobbing in time with Isaac’s thrusts.

“You like that?” Isaac’s voice was hot, and dripping with arousal.

“Y-yes,” Soren gasped, “Another… please.” He clawed at the bedspread, whimpering when Isaac removed his fingers. He re-slicked them, and pushed three inside this time, tasting Soren’s obscene moan on his tongue as he stole a kiss.

“Fuck, Soren,” Isaac groaned, “You’re so hot inside,” He kissed him again. Soren blindly fumbled for a spare vulnerary he kept on his bedside table, and upon finding it, shoved it against Isaac’s chest.

“Make me wet,” He instructed. Isaac left him empty, spilling the entire contents of the flask onto his throbbing cock and all over Soren’s hips. He thrust his fingers inside again, wet, slippery, and clumsy; the thick muscle clenching around them, “Enough,” Soren spread his legs as a silent invitation, “Come on.”

Isaac pumped his cock just enough to pull back his foreskin and lube himself, then thrust inside with all the grace of a featherless swan.

It hurt just enough to feel good.

Inch by glorious inch of veined, thick flesh slid inside Soren. Curved in just the right way, thickest at the base and hot hot _hot_. Isaac collapsed above him, damp with sweat, teeth clenched, eyes closed. Soren touched his cheek and wrapped his legs around him. He desperately wanted Isaac to move. His hole ached for it. His cock ached for it. But he waited.

Finally Isaac regained his composure. He opened his eyes, and Soren was drowning in blue blue _blue_.

“Can I…?” He whispered.

“Yes. Please,” Soren smiled and nuzzled his neck.

Isaac slid out, then pushed in with a groan and Soren shivered. He tried not to clench down, tried to relax, but he felt so, so good. A few more slow thrusts had Soren’s dick weeping, and Isaac panting.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” He teased between gasps, “It feels good.”

“It feels amazing,” Isaac moaned into his ear, “You’re amazing.”

Soren let his head fall back into the pillow and laughed.

“Isaac,” He whispered, “I love you.”

Isaac swore under his breath and drove into Soren with a feverish passion. He picked up speed, Soren’s moans spurring him to thrust harder, faster. That sopping hole fluttered and clenched around him making him hiss and groan as he chased his own pleasure.

Soren’s dick bounced against his stomach with every delicious thrust. He burned from the inside, heat coiling in his stomach and tears prickling his eyes as he desperately tried to suppress the orgasm he knew was coming.

“Isaac! Isaac – Ah – yes! Harder!” He cried.

Isaac was only too happy to oblige.

He bent Soren in half and ruthlessly fucked him. The new angle brought with it new sensations. Sweet, _sweet_ bursts of delight ripped through him with every thrust. He cried out as his orgasm shot through his cock, the shockwaves surging though his body like a storm, thick ribbons of cum splattering all over his chest.

But Isaac barely noticed. He was too far gone chasing his own orgasm to notice how Soren thrashed beneath him. Too blissed out to notice his lover’s ragged breathing and sputtering cock or the way his hole clenched and twitched around his member. Heart pounding, Soren rode that high for what felt like hours before Isaac’s gave one final powerful thrust and pumped him full of his hot seed.

He must have passed out because when he came to Isaac was hovering over him looking equal parts sated and terrified.

“Is…aac?” Soren managed between deep, uneven breaths.

“Hey,” Isaac let out a sigh of relief and ran his clean hand through Soren’s hair, “You ok?” Soren smiled and nuzzled Isaac’s nearby palm.

“Better than ok,” His voice was hoarse from screaming, “You?”

“I’m incredible,” Isaac smiled lovingly at the spent mage beneath him who snorted in amusement.

“Yeah, you are.” He smirked. Isaac flushed.

“That was not what I meant,” He growled playfully. Soren laughed.

“I know.”

He held Isaac’s gaze for a time, the silence warm and comforting. Isaac collapsed beside him and placed a chaste kiss to his brand.

“I want to do it again,” Soren snorted at the mixture of alarm and interest on Isaac’s face, “But maybe in the morning?” He winced. He could feel Isaac’s cum leaking out of him and wondered briefly if he should mention it. Ignoring it wasn’t the greatest idea given how much laundry they'd have to deal with tomorrow – and some assorted other details – but if he left things as they were perhaps he’d be loose and slick enough come morning to goad Isaac into round two.

A tempting thought.

“As if I’d say no,” Isaac chuckled.

He tucked Soren under his chin and pulled the blankets over them.

Sleep came easy.

\-----

It was a gorgeous morning, as beautiful as they came in the Desert of Death; warm and breezy with scattered clouds and not a single cicada to harmonize with the sound of the river. Soren lay back against the coarse grass of the riverbank and closed his eyes.

Isaac had insisted on doing the laundry himself. He’d claimed that the current was too strong for Soren’s… weakened state. Soren couldn’t argue with that given how difficult it was to stand without his knees buckling.

Soren licked his lips. The pleasure of sex was something he’d nearly forgotten over the last hundred years. His whole body ached from being bent in half and fucked raw for hours only to claim a short rest before a second round at sunrise. He barely made it to the river with Isaac’s help, knees buckling every few steps.

But he felt good – _so_ good. His mind was quiet, his heart full to bursting and that pleasant thrumming beneath his skin had him itching with the urge to drag Isaac from the water and have his way with him among the reeds. Again.

Although, a bath might take priority.

“You look like shit,” A shadow fell over Soren. He cracked an eye open to assess his visitor and closed it again.

“Good morning to you too, Stefan,” He said with a slight smirk. Stefan didn’t join him on the grass immediately. Instead he watched Isaac fumble with a tangled sheet and chuckled.

“Would you look at that,” He marveled, “You taking a break? Isaac doing the wash on his own? If I didn’t know any better I’d say the world was ending.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Soren sat up, wincing slightly at the twinge in his hips as he did so. Stefan tried and failed to hide his grin behind his hands, “And to what do I owe this honor?”

“By the looks of things, you owe _something_ to your new bedmate,” Stefan tugged at Soren’s collar, snickering at the red marks that littered his necks and shoulders.

“Mind your own business,” Soren grumbled, cheeks tinted pink. He caught sight of Isaac chasing after a pair of pants that the current stole and chuckled.

Stefan watched him intently.

“I’m happy for you,” He said, voice gentle and serious enough to draw Soren’s attention, “For both of you.” 

“That’s… an odd thing for you to say,” Soren studied Stefan as if his face would betray some additional information.

“I suppose,” Stefan sighed, “But it’s the truth. I’ve been worried about you since the day I met you.”

“…Because I’m a branded?” Soren furrowed his brow. He couldn’t think of any other reason. After all, Soren’s mixed heritage was the entire reason Stefan showed any interest in him at all to begin with.

“Because you’re a dragon,” The words took him by surprise, so he waited for Stefan to continue, but Stefan’s gaze was thoughtful and fixed on Isaac.

It took several minutes for Stefan to begin again.

“Dragon branded are exceptionally rare,” He said, “Before Isaac came along, I thought you were the only one.”

“What made you think that?” Soren fiddled with a few blades of grass. The laguz of Goldoa rarely left their country, but that didn’t mean other dragons were equally isolated. After all, he existed – albeit as the result of his mother’s careless rebellion. It only seemed reasonable for there to be others like him.

Though… through all his travels Ninian and Nils were the only two he could recall.

“Dragons mate for life,” Stefan leaned back on his hands, “You see, a Dragon’s loyalty is incredibly difficult to get, but once earned, it’s never lost. The same goes for their heart. They treat their mates as an extension of themselves, which is… a bit heavy even for the most committed of people.”

Soren felt a chill run through his chest. He understood what Stefan was implying. Even if a dragon selected another long-lived laguz as a mate, they’d still outlive them by possibly thousands of years. They’d either live a life without their love, or they’d choose to select another only to outlive them as well.

The way he did with Ike.

The thought left him cold.

“I saw a lot of that in you; the loyalty, the commitment. I was terrified that when Ike passed, you’d follow him,” Stefan’s frowned deepened, “I’m glad you didn’t, but watching you suffer alone… wasn’t much better.”

Soren’s nails dug into the sand. He’d definitely thought about following Ike. It was a thought that haunted him for years. He’d never wished for death but… a life without Ike hadn’t seemed worth living.

“Now imagine my surprise when – seventy five years later –  a half dragon teenager carrying a half dead woman shows up in the middle of town,” He smirked.

“That was Isaac?” Soren whispered.

“It was,” Stefan nodded, “I saw a lot of you in him… and I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be nice if you two got along?”

“So you set us up,” Soren’s lips quirked up. Stefan’s face creased with age as he laughed.

“Not exactly. He was fifteen when I met him. I thought you’d have more of a student-teacher thing. He’d be someone to distract you from your past, and you’d be someone Isaac would be comfortable getting attached to,” Stefan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “I didn’t see this coming, but things turned out a lot better than I thought they would.”

“Yes, I suppose it did,” Soren smiled and cocked his head to the side, “So did you come all the way here just to be sappy? Or was there something else you wanted?” Stefan snorted and ruffled Soren’s hair like he was still a child. He laughed harder at the scowl he got in return.

“Actually, yes. There is,” He pulled a letter out from a pouch on his belt and handed it to Soren, “This arrived for you while you were gone.” Soren turned it over in his hands and frowned.

“Strange…” He murmured. An ornate marking of a bird had been stamped into the wax seal – an unfamiliar emblem. Perhaps it was a letter from Nils; after all, he was the only living person who knew where Soren lived and the most likely person to send him one. His… family would opt to use the sending stone and everyone else was either in Arcadia or dead.

Popping the seal and unfolding the parchment, Soren skimmed the contents in search for a name, then read it a second time, carefully. Stefan waited until he was done before speaking.

“Well? Who’s it from?” He asked. Soren didn’t take his eyes off the signature at the bottom.

“Zelgius,” He said, “The Black Knight. You remember him, don’t you?” Stefan frowned, deep in thought.

“Ah, that’s right… Sephiran’s dog, right? He’s still alive then, is he? What does he want from you?” Did Soren’s ears deceive him or did Stefan sounds protective? Soren folded the letter and thoughtfully tapped it against his chin.

“He wants me to seal Alondite,” He said.

“Really? Strange... Why not just give it to Ike’s family? That’s what you did with Ragnell, isn’t it?” Stefan raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yes, well, it appears as if the Greil Mercenaries have vanished. He says they were last seen boarding a ship for Valentia some twenty years ago.” How long had it been since he last checked in on Mist’s descendents? It must have been at least fifty years, “He says he no longer has any use for it. The herons don’t want it and he doesn’t trust Begnion with it, so he’s entrusting it to me.”

“Hm,” Stefan hummed, then slapped Soren on the shoulder a bit too roughly, “Well, Isaac could use a new sword,” Soren rolled his eyes.

“Alondite may be light, but its shape isn’t suited for Isaac. His sword style is too much like yours.” He said.

For some unfathomable reason, Soren’s words made Stefan grin like a cocky cat. He stood, stretched and gave a half hearted bow.

“Well, this nosey old man has things to do. I can’t sit around here all day,” He said jokingly before catching Soren’s eyes and saying far more seriously, “Take good care of each other, ok?”

“We will,” Soren said. With that, Stefan left, heading back to the village and looking a little older than Soren remembered.

How old was Stefan, anyway? Quite old for a Lion, surely.

“Was that dad?” Isaac set the basket of soaked laundry down beside him as Soren nodded in affirmation, “What’d he want?”

“He just came to give me a letter,” Soren held his hands out and Isaac hoisted him – unsteadily – to his feet.

“From Nils?” Isaac asked, “Or…?”

Soren remained quiet. He searched Isaac’s pure blue eyes for something he couldn’t articulate and held his hands just a little tighter.

“It’s from an old acquaintance,” He began, a little cautious, a little anxious, “He’s come into possession of a divine weapon and he would like me to seal it for him.”

“Huh. Ok,” Isaac released one of Soren’s hands and picked up the laundry with the other, “So when do we leave?”

Something inside of Soren fluttered. Isaac spoke like his role in Soren’s future was an undeniable fact – like any plans Soren made were plans that belonged to both of them.

He knew right then and there that it didn’t matter what – if any – connections Isaac had to Ike. Soren had made the right decision when he chose to place his faith in the man beside him.

There was room in his heart for two.

Soren looked up at him, a glint of mischief in his eyes and excitement in his smile as he spoke.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it.  
> That’s the end, guys.  
> I know it’s a little loose and the ending is a little too open, but it’s what I wanted to write and I’m so happy to finally be able to share this story with all of you.  
> It’s been almost a full year since I started this fic and I just wanted to say thank you all SO MUCH for taking the time to read it, for sharing your thoughts and comments and kudos… it’s meant a whole lot to me and I’m proud to be able to make this contribution to the fandom.  
> I LOVE YOU ALL! I’ll be taking a short break while I plot out the next pieces I want to work on, but do stay tuned! :D  
> (Oh, but this series, 21st and 99th is done. There won’t be a sequel or a prequel. I’m gonna focus on other fics and AUs)

**Author's Note:**

> While writing this chapter, I had a bit of a realization.
> 
> I’ve read a ton of amazing Ike/Soren fics, but I’ve always found the way he was presented very odd. People seem to like writing him as some mix of depressed, quiet, socially awkward, humorless bookworm and I just… don’t see it.
> 
> The Soren I know is angry at the world, but hopeful and content with his place in it, outspoken but not necessarily forthcoming, a snarky/sarcastic little shit (“Your admirer’s rather generous, Ikey-poo!”), and has no real interest in history or studying unless it holds some tangible value.  He’s also often written as physically weak and I’m like… this boss walked across two countries full of people who hated him, wild animals, and bandits BY HIMSELF ON FOOT when he was just a kid! He’s built way tougher than he gets credit for.
> 
> So if Soren seems a bit different that what you’re used to reading, that’s good. And I hope you enjoy my take on him. His character (and his relationship with Ike) is very dear to me, and I hope I’m able to do it justice.
> 
> Going to try to update every week (maybe two depending on schedule and length). The whole story is plotted out and I think it'll run about 10 chapters or 50k words. Rating may change later on (for sexytimez).


End file.
